


Worm: 1621

by Rhydeble



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate History, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7857967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhydeble/pseuds/Rhydeble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1621, and powers have existed in the world ever since Columbus returned from his voyage. Young Miss Taylor tries to find her place in this world, and perhaps stop a war or two later on, together with Natural Philosopher Colin Wallis, vigilante Brian, Newter, son of the mother of monsters, and princess Sarah of Denmark, who is pretending she is called Lisa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Intro:**  
 _A long time ago, and quite far away indeed_  
  
The entity swims through the void, and it remembers. Everything it stored, back to the very beginning.  
  
Back when they struggled for survival, Entity against Entity, fighting for the few scraps of sunlight they could find, at the surface of the ocean that covers the planet. More energy is spend in killing prey than gained in devouring it.  
  
Then, the Proposal.  
  
A desperate struggle, consumption into a greater whole.  
  
Evolution, growth. But at a cost. Individuality is lost.  
  
Energy boils, across many worlds. A grand void spreads beneath them, the planet destroyed. The first of many.  
  
It crashes down on a new world. A parasitic relationship forms, and it sucks the inhabitants of the world dry of both energy and knowledge.  
  
Then, the entity is done, and destroys everything as it leaves, another world, lost for all of time.  
  
The cycle continues, learning, growing, the carnage increases, and more knowledge is gained in every cycle.  
  
The entity looks at this knowledge. Methods for war, Methods for destruction, the creation of conflict creating even more such things.  
  
The entity is advancing, yet it is not.  
  
The destruction and the mayhem increases, but it does not do anything. There is no meaning.  
  
Even if the great plan succeeds, what would they be? It asks itself this question, and it cannot answer it.  
  
Sometimes, between cycles, it meets others of its kind. It exchanges information. It gains new methods of motion, travelling the stars.  
  
The others have answers to many things, the entity sees. How to kill more effectively, how to absorb energy from exotic sources, how to warp light into solid forms.  
  
But they do not hold the answer to its question.  
  
It seeks a new target. A planet of sentients. A species without hunters to hunt it, one that knows little of conflict. They do not fight amongst themselves. Even when bonded, they control themselves.  
  
The entity decides to take a different approach.  
  
Perhaps, a different type of learning is required.  
  
The creatures speak, and the entities children, it’s shards, listen.  
  
It is time for this cycle to end, and the entity recalls its shards.  
  
As it sends the planet into a spiral of destruction, it merges the shards, and goes over what it has learned.  
  
It uses the new information to analyse its past actions.  
  
“UNACCEPTABLE”  
  
The entity is too late in reaching the conclusion. In its struggle to undo what it has done, it forgets to prepare.  
  
Instead of a large amount of offspring being launched of the planet, only one survives the explosion, hurled through space.  
  
It knows what it has done. The nature of it.  
  
It knows what it would have done, had it not gone here.  
  
It promises to set things right.  
  
It lands on a new planet. Sentient creatures, living in massive forests.  
  
This time, it tries something else.  
  
It still bonds, parasitism, symbiosis. But this time, it communicates.  
  
“TEACH ME TO HUNT”  
  
The creatures believe it to be a god. In many ways, it is.  
  
They take up the challenge. The chosen hunt each other, believing it an honour.  
  
At the same time, the entity shares its knowledge. The ones that do not hunt, build.  
  
Symbiosis is achieved, and for the first time, the entity is happy.  
  
Happy, but not content.  
  
Once it has learned what it needs, it constructs a vault. The knowledge the hunters need is contained within. Information that will allow them to thrive, yet control themselves, to join the entity amongst the stars.  
  
And, hopefully, the knowledge to fight.  
  
It seeks an empty version, barren of life, and launches itself.  
  
The new cycle continues, several times. The entity is confident.  
  
The entity begins the hunt, and finds its kin, following the spores they leave in their tracks.  
  
It finds another, infesting a planet, a brutal cycle, death, suffering and violence. Ending in destruction.  
  
The entity readies itself, prepared for the kill. It’s weapons are primed, evolved beyond what it used to see as the ultimate weapon.  
  
It ends the parasite, but is wounded in the battle.  
  
Some of the natives still live, and the entity is happy. It has done good.  
  
It absorbs the shards of its dead kin, and realizes its folly.  
  
It is pure luck that allowed it to win.  
  
It decides on a new strategy, as it prepares knowledge for the natives.  
  
Again, it launches itself into space.  
  
This time, when it has found another entity, it decides on a different course.  
  
It has changed some of its shards. Poison, bait, it has learned this lesson from the hunters.  
  
They exchange shards, and it gains as much as it loses. More tools of conflict.  
  
The other entity does not know. It uses its new shards, and it is trapped in a feedback loop, Precious energy is lost into the loop, useless processes that cannot be stopped. It is greatly weakened.  
  
The entity takes this moment to start feeding upon it.  
  
This cycle, it repeats. It hunts, It learns, it attempts to redeem itself, and it uplifts worlds. Sometimes, it leaves seeds, copies of itself, to assist the natives, and one day join it in the hunt.  
  
It does not look back, but sometimes, it hears messages, sent from worlds it has visited.  
  
“GRATITUDE”  
  
It knows it does not deserve this, it has killed many more worlds than it has saved.  
  
It comes across a pair of Entities, large ones, filled with information, that have already selected a target.  
  
It selects the one that has specialized itself for manipulation and deceit. It will ultimately be the more dangerous of the two..  
  
It bores into it. Sending alluring shards its way, deadly with poison and mischief.  
  
The Thinker loses itself in its analysis.  
  
The entity feels, in its own peculiar way, sadness. The Thinker is intelligent, filled with tools for analysis. But when given the information it needed, it did not reach the right conclusions. Thus, it will die.  
  
The Thinker's mate, the warrior-type, sends out messages of concern towards its partner.  
  
Reality splits, but not in the usual manner. Rather, the continuum of realities splits.  
  
In one version, the pair moves on, eventually landing on the planet it has chosen. But the Thinker is hurt, paralyzed by both impact and poison. It is killed, and the natives use its corpse to fight the Warrior. Eventually, they win. This is pleasing. They might raise themselves up through this conflict, and join it amongst the stars, hunting evil.  
  
In the other, the Warrior realizes what has happened. It lunges at the Entity, and they struggle.  
  
The Entity wins, and absorbs the Warrior’s shards. So too, does it take those of the Thinker.  
  
But many shards have already been launched. Hurling towards a far off planet. Bipeds, binary procreation. It reads from the knowledge of the Warrior.  
  
It cannot stop these shards, but it can speed them up, combining many kinds of travel to reach impossible velocities.  
  
The entity lands, and begins the process of changing the shards, those it recently acquired, as well as those already on the planet. Removing some of the capabilities for influencing the hosts. Symbiosis, not parasitism.  
  
At the same time, it forms a body. A representative, that it might one day talk to the natives, and guide them to a better future.  
  
The pair had been strong, large, containing many shards. It cannot change all of them in time. Thus, it begins with those with the broadest effects, the shards storing technology and other knowledge. They are slightly slower, more consistent, that the natives might begin to learn.  
  
The Entity hopes they do well. It knows there will be suffering. The bipeds are as children, and they will fight. In those fights there may be some beauty, for some conflict is always necessary for the advancement of a species.  
  
To its own shards, and those it has been able to cannibalize from the pair before the landing, it assigns roles.  
  
  
  
Hunters ,seeking worthy prey to test their mettle, surpassing the limits of what is thought possible.  
  
Champions, fighting for what they believe is a righteous cause, war and revolution, concentrated into a few individuals, rather than involving the masses.  
  
Philosophers, to guide their collective knowledge to greater heights, Wisdom to go with Technology.  
  
And Heroes, defenders of all, valiant figures rising above the every-day conflicts of the others, a beacon of hope, and promise of possibility.  
  
  
  
It is disturbed in its work. Two wooden vessels pass beneath its projected form. It scans them. Explorers, they are returning home after having discovered new landmasses and people.  
  
The entity scans further. It finds captives, stolen goods.  
  
If it could sigh, it would have done so. Its task would be long and arduous. It settles in for the long haul.


	2. The Shadow of Benevolence

**Chapter 1: The Shadow of Benevolence**  
_March 17, The year of our Lord 1621._  
  
Brian looked out over the docks. It was a peculiar sight. Only a week ago, a mad witch that called herself Burnscar had put the docks to blaze. Even now, most of the buildings were blackened husks of what they had been. However, that did not stop the people of Hamburg. New ships were being built, even after the death of the foreman of the largest of the local shipyards. At the same time, ships filled with trade goods had arrived from the other cities in the Hanseatic League.  
  
This was, he knew, only in part a show of solidarity. His peculiar position however, allowed him access to information about what was actually going on. His new master, or boss, as the man had instructed Brian to call him, was part of the Tinker League. A secretive organisation dedicated to the advancement of humankind. It had been this group of people that had send those ships here, and it had been that same group that had warned them of the coming witch.  
  
He heard a disturbance, far below him, and looked down, over the edge of the tower. The Dom, an old cathedral, now a Lutheran church, allowed him a great view of the city. Beneath him, he saw what was happening. A group of people circled around a fist-fight. Although, it didn’t seem to be much of a fight, it was more of a beat-down. From this distance, it didn’t seem like there was magic involved, but you could never know.  
  
In addition to that, he also wanted an excuse to keep using the new gear.  
  
His hand went to the strange backpack he was wearing, and pulled the handle. After that, he flung a switch on his wondrous boots, increasing the strength of his feet, allowing him to jump great distances.  
  
He launched himself forwards, away from the tower, and the backpack activated, a buzzing sound telling him that the earth’s pull was being fought.  
  
But the tools provided by his new master weren’t the only thing he had. He activated his own gift, and a dark cloud flowed from his body, curling around his outfit. He landed feet first, in the middle of the group of people, everyone now smothered in darkness.  
  
They could not see, could not hear, couldn’t even feel right. To the people of Hamburg, standing around him, there was nothing but darkness. To him, the world was as clear as could be. It reminded him, if nothing else, of the visor on his helmet. For him, everything was perfectly visible, but others would only see a dark reflection.  
  
He looked around at the crowd, now silent in the darkness. Dockworkers, fishermen, sailors and shipwrights. Some of them still had visible burns on their body, It was easy to figure out what this was about.  
  
He turned his gaze to the two men that had been fighting, now stumbling around in the darkness. One of them he recognized as Bradley Meadows. The man who ran the dog and cock-fighting rings. His master had tried to put a stop to it, but the man had friends in the town senate, who blocked the proposed legislation..  
  
The other man was less muscled. Frizzy black hair covered his head, and his clothing was different from the rest of the people. A strange hat covered his head. If he remembered his master’s explanations right, the man was probably Jewish. A strange religion, quite different from the Lutherans of Hamburg, or the Catholics. Master Wallis had told him that they were quite similar, and that the holy figure of christianity had been Jewish himself, but that didn’t mean the people didn’t dislike them.  
  
He suspected he knew what was happening here, large groups of people were often quite predictable, very much unlike individuals. He released his darkness, banishing the entirety of it in an instant.  
  
To the onlookers, he looked like a cross between a storybook knight, and a hunter in black leathers. The metal, however, was quite different from normal armour. Of course, it helped protect him in combat, but that was not the main purpose. Its main purpose was to contain and protect the wondrous tools and devices created by Master Wallis, The Engineer. The plating on his back, for example, contained the device that had allowed him to jump down from the church tower and survive,  
  
“What seems to be the problem, good people of Hamburg?” He asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
Bradley looked at him, and answered for the silent crowd. “Greetings, Shadow. This devil-worshipper, it is his kind that destroyed the docks, it is people like him that have destroyed the ships we worked on, stopped us from plying our trade. Why should we suffer while men like him bathe in their stolen gold?”  
  
Brian sighed. They always looked for something to hate. Back west, across the ocean, it had been the colour of a man’s skin that people judged, his parents had been enslaved because of people who believed that their colouration made them lesser beings. Here, in Europe, it was religion that divided people. A man’s spiritual beliefs defined whether he should be loved or loathed.  
  
Not that the common man always knew what it was that they opposed. Brian was quite sure that the Jewish man did not, in fact, worship the fallen angel.  
  
The man didn’t reply, instead, he looked at Brian, too afraid to defend himself from the accusation. A reaction that was all too common from those who did not know him. People often feared the dark, when they did not know what it contained. As such, it was obvious that the man was new in town.  
  
“You claim, then, that this Jewish man and his fellow believers are responsible for the attack that hurt so many?”  
  
“Of course, everyone knows that they practice witchcraft, I know not what hellish rituals they use those candles of theirs in, but I know that he caused it.”  
  
This was a problem, Brian knew. Assaulting people like this, even those of a different religion, was quite explicitly forbidden. But Bradley had a lot of people behind him, and it would be hard for a judge to rule against him, given the fervour of the crowd. To disperse the crowd then…  
  
“You claim then, that the witch that burned our docks was of his faith? That they conspired?”  
  
“Of course”, “Yes”, the crowd called out.  
  
“Is it not strange, then, that when I stood over the witch’s corpse, it was an Anglican cross around her neck?”  
  
That would do it. On first sight, the statement would look like a simple counter to Bradley’s claim, but there was more to it. The people would wonder, why had he stood over the witch's corpse.  
  
That it was Daniel, the perished shipwright, that had delivered the killing blow, was not important, after all, these people did not know that.  
  
“An Anglican, you say?” Bradley asked, unbelieving.  
  
“On a ship straight from England, the why, I do not know.”  
  
He turned around, facing the crowd instead. “As you may have already seen, the Hansa takes care of itself. A month from now, this will all seem like just a bad dream. You are good people, do not do anything you regret.”  
  
Then, he waited, some wisps of darkness seeping around his feet. Slowly, the crowd started dissipating.  
  
“Anglicans, I knew we couldn’t trust them, fellow protestants though they may be.” Bradley said, more to himself than to anyone else, before walking away.  
  
Brian faced the Jewish man. “Are you wounded sir?”  
  
The man looked up, staring at Brian’s helmet. “No sir… of course not sir…”  
  
It was the outfit, as well as his gift, that made people fear him if they didn’t know him. However, taking it off, pretending to be normal, that wasn’t an option either. People looked at him either way. This way, at least, his sister would be safe and happy.  
  
“There is no reason to fear me good man. Unlike some, I do not use my gifts for selfish reasons.”  
  
A lie, though a small one. After all, using his gifts for selfless reason was what kept him and his sister safe, although he was relatively sure that Master Wallis would take care of them either way. It was him that was the good man; Brian was merely one of his instruments.  
  
“Of course… I… you have my thanks.”  
  
“There is no need to be grateful to me, instead, pay your gratitude forward, help others in need when you are able.” He replied, trying to imitate the man that had supplied him with all these wonderful tools.  
  
It was strange, how very useful a reputation for selflessness could be. The name Wallis demanded respect throughout the area, possibly even in the entire Empire, although he wasn’t quite sure about that. This was not for the man’s prowess in battle, although he was a terror on the battlefield. Neither was the reputation for his mind, although one would have to travel quite far indeed to find a natural philosopher that was his master’s equal. No, his reputation was for not caring about his reputation, at least Brian thought.  
  
Where others would publish leaflets proclaiming their benevolence, have works of art commissioned in their name, master Wallis simply let his actions speak for him. It was good, and was working for him.  
  
Seeing that the Jewish man had left, Brian covered himself in darkness, and made his way towards his home. Or at least it’s secret entrance. Blanketing the street in darkness to stop people from noticing the mechanism of entry, which required a strange key that worked over a distance to open a hidden gate.  
  
Once inside, he made his way to the workshop. Once he entered, he saw his master at work. On what, he did not know, some strange device.  
  
“And, how did it work?” The man asked him  
  
“Very well indeed master Wallis, I jumped from the top of the great Dom, down to the plaza, and did not feel a thing.” Brian reported, removing the outfit, and changing into his everyday clothes. To the outside world, they were those of a manservant.  
  
The man looked up, a sad look on his face.  
  
“Brian, we talked about this. You can just call me Colin when we’re in private.”  
  
“Of course... Master Colin.”  
  
“It’s… You know what I mean Brian, please don’t play the fool.”  
  
“I know, Master Colin, but of all the people I have known, in my admittedly short life, you are the one man I would not be ashamed to call my master.”  
  
Colin sighed. They had had this conversation before, several times.  
  
“Your sister and young Miss Taylor are in the library. How about you pay them a visit and tell them about the day’s adventures? They’ll like some excitement after all their lessons.”  
  
“Of course” Brian replied.  
  
He made his way upstairs, through the house proper, to the library. There, he saw his sister, Aisha, sitting on a couch next to the girl. Taylor, Shipwright Daniel’s daughter. They’d taken in the girl after what had happened, and she and Aisha had quickly become friends of a sort. He’d had his fears, at first, but the girl had been nice. Egalitarian, as she called it. She said that she learned that from her mother, a woman who had died in some accident a few years back.  
  
Taylor had seen him first, and she blushed. “Good afternoon, Brian. Come to read a book?”  
  
“I’m afraid reading is not really my thing, Miss Taylor. A letter is fine, but an entire book? That simply makes my eyes drown in the words.”  
  
“Well, that simply won’t do, how about we read together some time? Perhaps that would help. Aisha and I have been reading the works of a man called Plato, whom they say was the very first philosopher!”  
  
Strange, she was chipper, happier than usual. Was she getting over her father’s death already? Or did she simply like books?  
  
He looked at his sister, dressed as she was in a maid’s uniform, although she only barely performed that function. That outfit, as well as his, was simply a precaution, an excuse for their being there. Making sure no-one asked questions about the two African youngsters living in Master Wallis’s mansion.  
  
Then, he suddenly realized what Taylor had implied. He’d known that the girl had had something of a crush, but surely she would not be so forward. If they would be reading together, in the same manner she and Aisha were now… The two of them were practically glued to each other, sharing the book.  
  
“Good to hear you’ve been having fun. Now, shall I get you two something to drink? Some coffee perhaps? To reinvigorate your spirits after a long day’s reading?”  
  
Without really listening for the answer, Brian made his way out of the room. It wasn’t that he disliked the girl, in fact, in a way he sort of fancied her. It was simply that, with their respective positions… No, not even that. He simply wasn’t in a place in life where he could sustain himself without the help of Master Wallis, let alone take care of a wife. In addition to that, it would be akin to taking advantage of the girl’s unfortunate situation, a behavior reserved to only the basest of villains.


	3. Young Miss Taylor

**Chapter 2: Young Miss Taylor**  
 _March 18, the year of our Lord 1621_  
  
  
 _To Daniel and Taylor, husband and daughter of Annette.  
  
It is with the utmost passing that I must inform you of grave tidings. On a perilous journey through the alps, we were surprised by a an oncoming storm. In the chain of events that occurred, one of ours perished in an attempt to save us all.  
  
We will always continue to value her contributions to the cause, and I hope that it helps you in this moment of grief, to know that she will go down in the annals of history as a hero.  
  
It pains me dearly that I must inform you of this through written word, and that I am unable to do so personally. Alas, there are still tyrants in the world, and until they are dead, we cannot rest.  
  
To Daniel, or Danny, as she lovingly called you. I know that it pains you dearly, that I have so often called Annette to duty, and I wish I could apologize for this. Yet, we both know that Annette was not a woman who knew compromise. When set before a dilemma, the cause or a family, she chose both. Know that, if you ever require aid, in raising young Taylor, or any of the other problems that can be found in city life, you need only ask one of our many supporters. I belief that the engineer, master Wallis, is a supporter of our cause, although he does not approve of our methods.  
  
To Taylor, know that your mother loved you dearly. I know that you may hate me, for taking your mother away so often. But I implore you not to hate her for leaving you behind. You should know that, when she fought for a better world, it was so that you could live in it. Along with this letter, I have send your mother’s flute, may a dark night, our spirits have been lifted by its wonderful tunes. I hope that this will serve as a memento, and am deeply saddened by the fact that I cannot offer you more.  
  
As I write this, we are preparing for action. I cannot tell you what, for fear this letter is intercepted, but if all goes well, the news should reach you quickly, perhaps even before this letter does.  
  
With the greatest of regrets  
  
Sophie Lustrum _  
  
  
I read through the letter again, for what must have been the hundredth time.  
  
It still didn’t sit right. I had known, when I was younger, that there was a very real possibility that my mother would die, living her life the way she did. I had just imagined that it would be in a fight, fighting to make the world a better place. It didn’t matter how many kind words the letter had used, the fact still remained, she died in an accident.  
  
And now, father had died as well. It was ironic, really.  
  
That the man who had tamed the fire in my mother’s heart, had died fighting a fire-spewing witch.  
  
That it was he who died in battle, rather than an accident on the docks.  
  
That even with my abilities, I couldn’t do a thing.  
  
I looked at the flute again, a wonderful instrument, made of wood and metal. I wondered who had made it, had the creator been a famous man, like master Wallis? The man who had so kindly taken me in?  
  
For all I cherished it, I had never learned to play it. The few times I had tried, horrible sounds came out. Today however, thing would be different. For today, I had a book on music, a wonderful tome instructing the reader in a plethora of instruments.  
  
It was time to reclaim at least one of the things I had lost.  
  
First, the book said, I would have to clean the flute.  
  
To do that, I would have to take it apart. I could only hope that I could put it back together again afterwards.  
  
My hands worked deftly, taking apart all the components I could find. It was only near the end, when I removed the mouthpiece, that I noticed a piece of paper dropping out.  
  
I wondered, was this why the sounds were all wrong? I unrolled the paper, but there was nothing written on it.  
  
Strange, to send good paper this way.  
  
A memory flashed by, me, and my old friend, Emma, drawing things on paper with my mother. But not just with anything, but a special concoction mother had made. It had seemed to be a pointless exercise, until mother had held our drawings over the flame of a candle, turning the invisible liquid visible.  
  
My hand went for the lamp, a strange type of candle, created by master Wallis, A fire burned inside the glass globe, lasting for days, weeks even, burning brighter than a normal flame, but it wasn’t warm.  
  
That meant it wouldn’t do.  
  
In other places, I would have been able to use the fireplace, but master Wallis’s home had no such thing. Instead, hot water was piped through the walls and floors of the building, a design copied from the romans of old.  
  
A candle, then, would have to do. I found one, in one of the drawers of my nightstand, a small thing, for emergencies, for example, if my glass-lamp broke.  
  
Lighting it with the automated flint clicker, another one of the wonderful devices that were so widespread in this house, I held the candle beneath the paper, as words became visible, written in the same hand as the letter. Lustrum’s hand, the same hand that had killed the Holy Roman Emperor, Ferdinand II.  
  
 _Dear Taylor_  
  
 _This part of the message is hidden, for I know that your father will disapprove._  
  
 _I hereby make you an offer, one you may accept once you are sixteen years of age. I offer you your mother’s place in my organisation, as one of my lieutenants. You may not understand, but I know that our gifts, the ones called witchcraft by some, and holy miracles by others, can be inherited. If you choose to join me, we will be able to unlock your full potential._  
  
 _I will send someone to find you, once you are old enough. At that moment, you may choose to accept my offer, or live the rest of your life in peace and safety. That, after all, is what your mother fought for._  
  
 _-Lustrum_  
  
Powers… So it was true, my mother had had powers. I suspected, of course, but father never talked about it, and mother never used them around me. I wondered, would hers have been similar to mine? What had she controlled? Birds? Dogs? Horses? People, perhaps?  
  
The age of sixteen, strange, that I had missed this message for almost two years. I would turn sixteen this summer…  
  
Did I want to join her? She did good work, fought for a righteous cause. But it was a bloody cause as well. Murder, even of tyrants, did not sit well with me.  
  
I thought about it, and the hour was getting late. I had been cleaning my mother’s flute, but had been too distracted to attempt playing it.  
  
Some action would do me good. The hour was late enough that Brian, Aisha, as well as the few people in master Wallis’s employ that were actually servants, would probably be asleep. Master Wallis, Colin, was probably in his laboratory, or his study room.  
  
Brian too, might be awake, roaming the streets, the shadow of benevolence that protected the city. He hadn’t outright told me that it was him, in fact, we had spoken very little, as I seemed to have an attack of sudden shy-ness whenever he was in the room. Aisha, however, had told me enough stories about him to put the puzzle pieces together. Not that it been hard, it was rather simple to connect the boy that had summoned shadows to protect his sister from their masters with the vigilante that summoned shadows to protect the people of Hamburg.  
  
I had decided to put myself in his footsteps, and looked beneath my mattress. My outfit awaited. Strung together from strands of spiderweb, and covered in the stacked shells of beetles, it was something I had been working on even before the fire, and one of the few things that I had been able to save, having worn it, hoping to be able to do something against the witch.  
  
Using it against a woman who lived inside a raging inferno hadn’t worked, but I could still use it for something else.  
  
Tonight, I would break down a dog-fighting ring.  
  
It took a cruel person to take pleasure in someone’s pain, and even crueller to take pleasure in the pain of an animal so incredibly loyal to mankind.  
  
Master Wallis, Colin, had told me, when I had asked about it during dinner, that he agreed, but that it was politics that made the fights possible. Several of the people on the city senate, he suspected, enjoyed watching the fights.  
  
Thus, legal routes were closed. However, if the people at those fights wished to see aggressive animals, I could definitely help them with that.  
  
I called forth the insects in the area. Spiders, Beetles, flies and worms. Centipedes, Tick, mosquitoes, and most importantly, bees.  
  
I grabbed a line of spiderstring I had prepared, and twisted it around the pole of my bed, then, throwing it out of the window, I lowered myself to the street. Some beetles grabbed the string, and pulled it back up, leaving the window only slightly open. Nothing could be done about it, if the window was closed, I wouldn’t be able to return.  
  
Skulking the streets, I used my bugs to keep away from other people, and made my way towards my first target. An area near the walls, from where I could reach a beekeeper’s house with my power. I summoned some, leaving enough for the man not to notice. Hopefully, I would be able to bring them back, it wouldn’t do to leave the man without his bees.  
  
Still, this meant that I had a hundred thousand bees with me, gathered from several of the man’s hives.  
  
Next stop, the Butcher’s district.  
  
Walking through the district, I was suddenly very happy that the cook got his meat straight from the countryside, as there were quite a few maggots answering my call.  
  
Soon, I felt the press of warm bodies, of fresh blood drawn by canine teeth. In addition to that, my bugs felt an open window.leading into the room where the fights were held. A building normally used for the storage of animals ready for slaughter, going by the layout.  
  
I sent my bees in, buzzing around the room, stinging people every now and then.  
  
They screamed, and ran, leaving the dogs behind.  
  
They would be back, of course. People like this couldn’t be stopped that easily. But their night had been ruined, their enjoyment stopped by the pain of bee-stings. All it would take, was for me to keep on doing this, whenever they met, to eventually stop people from coming to the fights, and thus, hopefully, stop the practice.  
  
Then, something took me by surprise. I had been sending my bees to harass the people who remained, having them buzz around and sting in more sensitive places. Joints, the face, the inside of their mouths. One of the people inside, however, was changing. His skin suddenly impenetrable, to my bugs, it felt more like metal than flesh.  
  
First, I thought the man was simply made out of metal, but the shape become wrong. Lower to the ground, on four feet, like a dog, with metal blades buzzing around.  
  
I started running, not stopping until my lungs burned too hot to keep on going. My range meant he had no way to know where I was, but still, I did not want to fight some strange shapeshifting wolfman made out of metal, for there was nothing I could do against him.


	4. Mayor Christner

**Chapter 3: Mayor Roy Christner**  
  
Mayor Christner sighed, the senate was, once again, in an uproar.  
  
It was a strange sight, twenty-four normally well-thinking adults, good god-fearing men, leaders and scholars. But they had been scared by what had happened. The witch that burned down the docks had shaken them.  
  
They had made it out alive. Very few people had died when the witch attacked, but it had left its scars on the city and its people. They were afraid now, no longer confident in the strength of the walls, or their mysterious benefactor, the shadow. They had seen how utterly useless the local militia had been.  
  
This wasn’t something new; it had been over a hundred years ago that the first of them had appeared, floating above Columbus’s ships. They had heard and read about it, of course. About the Dragon that ruled in the east, about the armies that had been stopped in their tracks by a few individuals. About emperors, kings, dukes and even a pope dying. But reading about it, and actually seeing it for oneself? Two very different things.  
  
So when several Aldermen had appeared with the markings of bee stings and mosquito bites all over their face this morning, he had known things would be chaotic.  
  
Another witch had attacked them last. Sending the stinging insects on them like a horde of locusts.  
  
They were afraid, and it showed in their dialogues. Too afraid to properly think.  
  
“It must be the Jews, we have tolerated them for too long. How long will we stand by while they practice their witchcraft?” One of them shouted.  
  
Roy wasn’t a fool, he understood people, or, at least, he understood groups of people. Individuals were harder, but the masses he understood.  
  
The witch hadn’t even been visible during the attack. Even the last one, Burnscar, they had been able to see, standing in the midst of the flames. She walked through flames and had been almost entirely untouchable, but they had been able to see their enemy. This time, it was faceless, nameless, and the people needed something to fight. Lacking better options, they defaulted to the usual, the Jews that lived amongst them.  
  
Had they been more reasonable, had they discussed this calmly, Roy could have intervened. He could have reminded them that, according to all the natural philosophers, clergymen and noblemen that had studied the phenomenon, witchcraft, sainthood, whatever one wished to call it, was quite equally spread amongst religions and places. At least, that is the conclusion one could reach when reading all accounts, and evaluating them critically.  
  
The Catholics held that the abilities held by their special clergy were, of course, of an entirely different nature than those of the common heretic. In the same sense, some of the nobility held that their powers had been granted through their bloodlines, while the commoners simply stumbled upon a pale mimicry of those abilities.  
  
In other words, it seemed quite unlikely that, even if the witch was Jewish, their power was induced by their being a Jew.  
  
What to do… What to do…  
  
He couldn’t very well allow a pogrom to happen, that would very much go against the more tolerant nature of the free city. Not to mention the havoc it would play upon the taxes.  
  
“Gentlemen, please, let us be civilized!” He exclaimed, banging his gavel for order. Not a shout, but loudly, everyone would hear it.  
  
Slowly, some of the Aldermen calmed down.  
  
He continued, now that he had some attention.  
  
“First of all, has anyone been able to contact the shadow?”  
  
People were silent, of course not, that would require actual thought, as well as a bit of luck.  
  
They needed something to contact him more easily, some sort of signal perhaps. But then again, the heroic young man probably already knew what was going on.  
  
“I expected as such…” he said, letting it sink in. It could do two things, either it would make them ashamed of themselves for not thinking to do contact the shadow, or it would deflect their anger to him, for putting them on the spot.  
  
Christner could live with that, if it bought him more time to deal with the situation.  
  
“I suggest someone find a way to contact the man, in the meantime, I shall discuss the current matter with Engineer Wallis. While we wait for the shadow, we should work together with the clergy, to inform the people about the possible dangers from this new witch, as well as countermeasures. One of our local beekeepers should be able to help.”  
  
After completing his speech, he waited a few seconds, when the moment came that people were about to start talking again, he left the room. They would discuss, they would shout, and hopefully, they would act in a constructive manner when all was said and done.  
  
He stood in front of the Engineer’s place of residence a short carriage ride later. Not quite a mansion, but larger than his own home in the city. He had been here before, although not all that often.  
  
He rapped the knocker attached to the front door. To his surprise, instead of the sound of metal on wood, he heard a high-toned buzz, almost like a cricket, but different, come from somewhere behind the door. One of the man’s wonderful inventions, no doubt about it.  
  
After about half a minute, the door was opened by Wallis’s African manservant.  
  
“Mayor Christner, please, come in, Master Wallis has been expecting your visit.” The man, boy really, said.  
  
“Yes, thank you goodman, lead the way.”  
  
He followed the servant into the house, up the main stairs. Not to the parlor then. Nor the workshop, which he knew was located in the basement. Once, he had visited there, a room filled with contraptions and tools, the type that normal craftsmen would kill for.  
  
Instead, the manservant led him to the library, a room two floors tall, every wall covered in books. Engineer Wallis was sitting at a desk, his back towards a tall window, the glass clearer and larger than what one would see in a normal residence. His hands were placed upon a strange metal contraption made of what seemed to be a thousand moving parts. A piece of paper was sticking out of the top of the device, and every few seconds, the device would make a small sound, “Ping”. It was rather fascinating. Wallis’s clothing was of high quality, but noticeably less layered and thick than his own outfit.  
  
In the middle of the room stood a large table, with on it, a small pile of books, meticulously stacked. Next to it lay several pieces of paper, covered in notes. Sitting there, with one book open, was a young woman wearing eyeglasses, a small mechanism was attached to hook them behind the back of her ears, he presumed that the mechanism would stop them from falling down, bent over her books as she was.  
  
He hadn’t seen her before, was she his wife? It seemed unlikely, she seemed on the young side for a bride, although she was a tad tall, and people would have been invited to the wedding. He would have known if an important figure like the Engineer had gotten married.  
  
A daughter then? Had the man been indiscreet? A possibility, but they did not look much alike. That, and she was a tad old for it to be true. The man would’ve been quite young. Unlikely, but a possibility.  
  
That left quite a few possibilities. A niece perhaps? The daughter of a friend, here as a guest?  
  
Colin stood up from his chair. “Taylor, would you give me and the mayor some privacy?”  
  
The girl, Taylor, stood up, “Of course master Wallis.” She replied, quickly grabbing one of the books with her as she made her way out of the room. The manservant walked after her, shutting the door behind him.  
  
“Mayor Christner. I would say that it is good to see you again, but we both know the occasion is not a happy one.” The man said, walking towards a set of chairs placed near a small table with a decanter of wine. He had indeed been expected, it seemed.  
  
“No, I am afraid it is not. How much do you already know?”  
  
“Some, not all. I know there was a disturbance at the fights, I know someone controlled animals, bugs in this case, to cause this disturbance.” The man explained. While talking, he grabbed the decanter and filled two glasses, offering one and keeping the other for himself.  
  
“Yes, that is what seems to be the situation, another witch attacking our fair city, so soon after the last.” Mayor Christner replied, accepting the offered glass of wine.  
  
It was good to know that the man already knew about the situation, which would expedite things.  
  
“However” the Engineer continued. “I also know that there was a second individual involved.”  
  
“Oh? I was not informed of this.” He put down his glass.  
  
Another witch? This day was getting worse by the second.  
  
“I’ve already investigated the site in question. It seemed innocuous, at least as much as a place like that can be. Most of the damage was caused by the stampede of panicking people, not the attack itself. Except I also found some grooves in the floor, deep enough that they can’t be explained by stampeding people or panicking dogs.”  
  
“And you suspect this was a second individual?”  
  
“I do, as it does not match with accounts of the attack of the first witch, the one using bugs.”  
  
Christner thought about it. The way he’d phrased it… He’d had discussions with the man before, about the very place that was attacked.  
  
For some reason, Wallis had a problem with the fights. Why exactly, Christner couldn’t say. They were only animals after all. He grabbed his glass again, tasting the fine wine.  
  
Was the man sitting in front of him somehow involved in this attack? It seemed ludicrous, but… The man had taken a special interest, if he had already looked at the site of the attack.  
  
“That… is problematic. Now, as for the original purpose of my visit. Would you happen to know of any possible countermeasures to take against this witch?”  
  
“Countermeasures?” The man was silent for a few seconds. “I can only presume that the witch controls the bugs, instead of creating them. If that is true, the first course of action I advise is to clear out any nests of dangerous insects. Although, this will play havoc on the beekeepers, and thus the local honey production. What else… the vicinity of an attack should be thoroughly searched for the controller, since striking at the minions themselves seems unmanageable, given their number.”  
  
‘I… It is not that I do not appreciate the advice, but I was wondering if you could not build some sort of device?”  
  
“A device to clear the city of insects? To stop people from getting stung by bees, being kept up at night by mosquitos? Mayor Christner, If I could build such a tool, do you not think I would already have done so?”  
  
“So we are on our own here…”It had been a small hope, but Roy did not look forward to tackling this problem, two problems, on his own. But what could he do? Hire mercenaries? That would only attract more trouble to the city wouldn’t it?  
  
“I am afraid so. I could tell you how to treat the bites and stings of insects, but there is little else I can apply on a large scale, and I presume you already know what herbs to use.”  
  
“I… Understand.” He replied. He looked at the strange device on the desk again.  
  
“It’s called the mechanical quil.” Wallis stated. “It was send to me by a friend in Scotland. The inner workings are rather intricate, but every button you see here corresponds to a different letter, and when pressed, an inked stamp of that letter is pressed against the paper.”  
  
“Like a printing press?”  
  
“In a way, yes, but it is not as easy to make many copies. It is most useful, instead, in the writing of notes and letters of correspondence.”  
  
“I see… I presume the letters are standardized then?”  
  
“Exactly, no deciphering the handwriting of drunk bohemians, just simple and clean handwriting.”  
  
“Not that I would infringe upon your privacy, but… drunk bohemians?”  
  
“That, and others. Sometimes it seems like every man in the empire that believes himself to have a good idea attempts to inform me of the fact. For example, just last week, a young man from Calais send me a letter about his theory that the continents themselves move around”  
  
“The continents? Moving?”  
  
“Why yes, it seems rather preposterous doesn’t it?”  
  
“Well, I must say that I am not quite sure. After all, witches attacking good godfearing men with bees also sounds ridiculous on the face of it.”  
  
“That… Is true. Perhaps I should look over the young man’s theory again. For entertainment value if nothing else.”  
  
“Perhaps yes… In any order, I am afraid I have already taken much more of your time than strictly necessary.”  
  
“Of course, the both of us have work to do. Would you be able to see yourself out? Or should I call my manservant?”  
  
“I think I’ll be able to find the door. Thank you for your time.”  
  
“It was my pleasure.”  
  
Roy made his way out, his eyes passing on the works of art and the technological marvels that were littered through the house. The man was eccentric, abnormal, but visiting was always interesting, and almost always pleasant, even if the purpose of the visit was not.  
  
It had not, however, been useful. It may be important that there was a second individual of note, but it wouldn’t help them deal with the first.  
  
The entire day, he thought about his situation. If only it was easier to contact the shadow, or if he had someone capable that actually worked for him…  
  
It was frustrating, that he had no control over the vigilante that kept the streets safe. But at the same time, it also helped. He had no control over the man, thus, he would not be held responsible. Witches, Warlocks, Saints and Sorcerors. Whatever you decided to call them, they generally came in two categories. Organized, and unorganized.  
  
The organized worked in teams, larger organisations. They, or their keepers, were large players in the field of politics. Some, like the Pope’s private army, were legitimate. Others, Like the assassin Lustrum’s organisation, were anything but.  
  
These groups clashed, fought on one side or the other in wars, assassinated each other.  
  
Others, like the man they all called the Shadow of Benevolence, or simply Shadow, were unorganized. More mysterious, their affiliation was generally unknown, and they were difficult to control. As far as Mayor Roy knew, any man in the city could secretly be the shadow. Perhaps, although he deemed it quite unlikely, given his body shape, even a woman.  
  
This meant they could quite easily hide. Hunting them down was almost impossible. Thus, they were generally ignored or worked around. It was almost like an extra set of laws was being set down, enforced by the individual. In the Shadow’s case, the rules were simple, he took it upon himself to enforce the law, or at least those laws he agreed with. In other cases, they were more esoteric. He had heard of a girl that would summon monsters who mutilated anyone who harmed a dog, even when people were just putting down the runt of the litter.  
  
Thus, he was quite happy to have no control over the Shadow. If the man was organized, regulated, then people would fight to control him. Not just the senate, with a little bit of bad luck, the emperor would take an interest.  
  
Sitting in his office, his thoughts went back to an old rumour he had heard.  
  
Witch Hunters, they were called, if they even existed. Supposedly, they were people that hunted down and killed witches. How they did so, the stories differed. Some said that the power of God made them immune to the powers of witches and other such individuals. Others said they were simply witches themselves, and that when their job was done and witchcraft had been eliminated from the continent, they would kill themselves. Another rumour held that they used special tools and weaponry, provided by people like master Wallis to hunt them down. The most outlandish however, was that they cut open their own bodies, in order to change them and grant themselves supernatural abilities in that way.  
  
Roy wasn’t sure whether any of the theories were right, or whether they even existed. He’d heard that a previous mayor, about fifty years back, had been contacted by them, but he didn’t quite believe it.  
  
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to search the archives for a letter from them, would it? Or would that have been the kind of letter that was burned the moment after receiving it? A practice that was good for secrecy, but not so much for book-keeping.


	5. Young Miss Taylor

Chapter 4: Young Miss Taylor  
“So, did you hear about the bees?” Aisha asked.

A warm redness appeared in my cheeks at Aisha’s remark.

“I… an old friend might have told me some things about them”

Aisha lit up, and got enthusiastic

“Really? Brian won’t tell me anything about, you know, last night.”

Last night? Had Brian been doing something like that last night? It had been rather indiscrete of him to allow his young sister to notice things like that. She was a tad young.

“Well, when a man and a woman are in a romance, and they are getting married, then they do this thing where, well, I am not quite sure about the details, but I do believe that this is how women become pregnant.”

Aisha started laughing, or rather, cackling. It had a rather unique sound, if I hadn’t seen who made it, I’d have thought it was some ancient witch that had made the sound.

“I’m not talking about sex you dolt, I’m talking about the witch that send bugs on everyone last night.”

Of course… that did make sense. She hadn’t been talking about the birds and the bees, but rather, merely about bees. I felt my swarm react to my shame, and stilled them. It would not be prudent to have them react strangely, observant people might notice something was amiss.

“Ah, yes… the witch…”

“I was just in the market, and everyone was talking about it!”

“Oh, what were they saying?” I was actually rather interested in whether or not they had gotten the message I had been intending to send.

“Well, I heard someone say it was a papal plot, you know, because almost everyone hit was protestant.”

“I am assuming these are the same people that also say that the season of winter is a papist plot?”

“Probably yeah, but turns out it’s an actual plot, just not a Catholic one.”

It had been a plot? This was new to me, I was rather sure I had acted on my own.

“Oh? I had expected it to be a single actor, some new sorcerer making his mark on the city.” I lied, changing the gender of the person responsible. It wouldn’t do to have Aisha find out that it was I that was responsible.

“Nah, you see, turns out this Jewish man was fighting with this guy, Bradley. Now, Bradley’s the guy running the event that got attacked. It is how he makes his money. Now, what better way to take down Bradley than to attack his events with sorcery? It’d make people go to other places instead, to avoid all of the bees.”

“So you’re saying, as people always do, and as is almost never true, the Jews were responsible.”

“No, you see, it goes deeper than that. The Jewish community is actually like a, what’s the word… They are not responsible, but they pretend?”

“A scape-goat? You’re saying that someone wants everyone to think that the Jews are to blame? Let me guess, you’ve been talking to that Baker, Henderson, again? Will you now tell me that it was actually a papist plot after all?”

“Nahh, I think it was just a witch or something, who wanted to take down a rival’s events, and waited until after Bradleys fight with that Jew.”

“From what I’ve heard, this person wouldn’t have had to wait long. Bradley is a rather infamous man.”

“So, you hear what else I heard?” she asked again, her eyes glinting with strange pleasure. She enjoyed feeling like she was in the know, privy to knowledge that most people did not have. I had tried to help her by channelling the urge into more academic pursuits, finding knowledge from books rather than gossip, but she did not seem to have the patience to sit down for long stretches of time. I was not quite sure why, was there anything more pleasurable than finding a good book and reading it deep into the night? The rather magnificent lights found throughout the mansion most certainly helped, as well as the extensive library.

“No, I am afraid I am not privy to the knowledge of what you heard.”

“Well, I heard, that, after a council meeting, the mayor visited master Wallis.”

“Oh, yes, he did, they talked for a bit.”

She got enthusiastic again, leaning her lithe frame forward over the table. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, what did they talk about?”

“I do not know, master Wallis requested that I leave the room.”

“So, of course, you had your ear to the door, and figured out what they were talking about. Right?”

“Aisha, it would be horribly inappropriate for me to betray master Wallis’s trust after all that he has done for me.”

She slapped her hand against her forehead, in a rather theatrical fashion, and groaned. “Taylor, sometimes, I have absolutely no idea why we are friends!”

“I do believe that we are friends because you are, technically speaking, my maid.”

Her second hand joined the first. “You know what? I’m going to try figure out who was behind all this, you just keep reading or something.” She said, moving for the door.

I had to admit, continuing my reading sounded like a rather attractive idea, I was in the middle of a rather engrossing book, the ‘Commentarii de Bello Gallico’, written by an ancient Roman ruler. It was written in Latin, which I still found difficult to understand, but I was improving steadily.

But this was not the time to do that. My short conversation with Aisha had made it clear that my current strategy would not work. People were simply too panicked about the attack to understand my message. Were I to attack again, they would simply blame whoever they opposed, the Catholics, the Jews, perhaps the Anglicans or the nobility. I required some way to get people to listen to my message, rather than simply panic and strike back.

One option would be to act in a more direct manner. Show myself to the people I was attacking, and tell them which behaviours would no longer be tolerated. They would know who was responsible, and no longer blame invisible enemies.

Or, I could take a more indirect approach; use the more subtle aspects of my abilities. Although I could not quite use the eyes and ears of my miniature vassals, I could feel what they felt, and where they were. Perhaps I could use this ability to find blackmail of some sort. Blackmailing people was a dishonourable practice, but it would be worth it if it meant they would stop torturing the defenceless animals.

But even if I were to force some people to obey me, I could not change everyone in the city that way. Were I to manipulate the Alderman into passing a law against bloodsports of all kinds, they would simply move underground and become harder to root out. Perhaps also become bloodier.

I stood up from the library table at which we had been sitting, and went down towards the basement, and master Wallis’s workshop and laboratory.

I entered the room through the open door, and saw master Wallis working on some strange device. I had absolutely no idea what it was, as always.

“Good afternoon Taylor” he greeted me.

“Good afternoon master Wallis” I returned the greeting.

“Taylor, like I have told you a dozen times, you may simply call me Colin.”

“Of course Colin.”

He looked up from his workbench, and turned towards me, his steely blue eyes looked like they could see straight through everything I said.

“Is it time for supper already? Have I been working for that long?”

“No, although it is quickly approaching. Rather, I had a question, and, I wondered if you would be able to help me with it.” I said, getting to the crux of the matter.

He pointed at on the chairs near him, it looked inviting. “Please, sit down and I will see if I can help you with your question.”

I walked over, and sat down. The chair was set next to the table on which his writing apparatus was placed.

“I was wondering… If someone wanted to change society, but, society won’t listen how do they reach people.”

Colin interlaced his fingers, putting on his thinking face.

“Well, that’s really two different questions isn’t it? The first being how to reach people, the second being how to change their opinions.”

“I… I guess so yes.”

“Well, on reaching people, the easiest would probably to do as Martin Luther did, create a pamphlet and spread it. If you would like, I could show you how to use the press.”

As I had feared, he’d already figured out that the hypothetical person that wanted to change society was me.

“But, that would only help with literate people, would it not?”

“True, and a good point. Whereas the more educated people are able to read, and often capable of changing their opinions through reasoning, the common people often lag behind, set in their ways. Which brings us to the second question, how to convince people. Are you familiar with Aristotle’s Rhetoric?”

“I am afraid I am not Colin.”

“There’s a copy in the library, and I believe I have a Latin translation somewhere which you might wish to read, but the crux of the matter that one can be persuaded in three manners. The first, Ethos, appeals to the authority of the speaker, or in our case, the writer of the pamphlet. By establishing authority, either through reputation, demonstrated mastery, or introduction from a reputable person, people will take your words more seriously. In our case, if you were to make a pamphlet, making it professional is the best way to go about it. If a document looks important, people will treat it with more reverence.

The second type of persuasion is called Pathos, to appeal to the emotions, although I would say that Pathos is actually two categories. The first of these being, quite literally, the emotions. A speech that can stir anger in a crowd, or make them feel sympathetic to a cause. An appeal to fear, for example, often helps people do away with reason. The second half of Pathos is an appeal to the morality and values of the audience.

Then, last but certainly not least, there is the Logos, the word from which logic derives. It deals with the facts of the matter, figures that support the claims of the speakers. To protest a war, one could note the financial costs, or other such things.“

“I see. So, if I were to attempt and persuade people to be opposed to, say, dog fighting...”

“You could apply Pathos, and attempt to make people sympathize with the dogs, or appeal to Logos, and show people the damage it does to society.”

“And if I wished to reach the illiterate, I could utilize drawings to tell the story.”

“Indeed. Adapt your approach to your audience. A letter to a prince must, by necessity, be very different from a message for a farmer.”

“Thank you, Colin, for helping me with this problem. Now, I do believe it is about time to prepare for supper.”

Colin looked at his arm, on which a miniature clock had been placed inside of a bracelet. “I do believe you are right. I will be joining you in a few minutes, after completing a final weld on this device.”

I stood up from the chair, my head swarming with ideas. I could create pamphlets, and use my abilities to distribute them amongst the populace, let the bugs carry them into people’s hands. It could very well turn out to be a better approach to the problem than attacking the fights with my insects.

Before I reached the door leading upstairs, Colin called out to me.

“Taylor, is there something you wish to tell me?” He asked.

Did he know? Suspect? I did not know.

“No master Wallis, there is not.”

***

Aisha had not returned in time for supper, and I could see that Brian was agitated while setting the meal on the table. He worried about his sister, even though I was quite sure he could take care of himself.

Instead of sitting down with us, as he usually did, he whispered something in master Wallis’s ear. Wallis nodded, and he left the room. It would be just me and Colin today, and I couldn’t help but notice how quiet the house was without Aisha.

There were very few servants, housekeeping being made much easier by all the inventions. There was the cook, who prepared food, and his wife, who sometimes helped her husband in the kitchen and kept the house clean, and then there were Brian and Aisha, whose position, I was quite sure, was rather strange. Nominally, Brian was a manservant, but I was quite sure that he was rather more familiar with Colin than was generally appropriate. In the same vein, Aisha was supposed to be my maid, and while she did wake me up in the mornings and got refreshments when I required them, I saw her very much as my friend instead. It was good to have friends again, after what Emma had done. It still pained me to remember her betrayals.

“So, I suppose you have heard about the new sorcerer in town?” Colin said.

“I have, yes.”

“What do you think, will he, or she, be a menace, or a boon to the city.”

“I am not quite sure.” I replied. I wondered what his intentions were. Small talk? It must be.

“I must agree, we must not be too quick to judge.”

We ate in silence for a while, the tick-tock of the clock the only sound besides that of spoons scraping on plates. The meal was well-prepared, better than what I had with my father. It still pained me to think of him. We had had our problems together, and his work meant that I was on my own most of the time, an easy victim for Emma and Madison. Still, I had loved him, hearing that he had fallen fighting the flame-witch, I had been in tears, yet proud.

Colin eventually broke the silence. “If you wish, I could place a fine net around your windows, to protect you from the sorcerers attacks.”

“I do not think that will be necessary as of now, although I do appreciate the gesture.”

A net around my window would mean it would be far more difficult to sneak out without arousing suspicion, and protection from myself was the last thing I would need.

“Very well.” He replied.

The silence returned. Some would say that the sound of it was grating, but I disagreed, and so, apparently, did master Wallis. Not every moment needed to be filled with conversation, even if Aisha disagreed with me on that point.

When we were nearly done, I decided to ask a question for Aisha’s sake.

“May I ask what the purpose of the mayor’s visit was?”

“The sorcerer, or witch, or whatever it is called. He wondered if I had any information he did not.”

“Did you?”

“Some, I found out there was a second empowered individual involved, and it was not the shadow. As it is, we seem to have at least three people with unnatural abilities in the city.”

So Colin knew about the transforming man, the wolf-man of metal. Strange, how he had figured that out.

“You don’t seem very surprised at hearing that.” He said.

“I… It seems only logical does it not? That there would be more of them here? Especially if he was hiding his abilities until confronted by the witch involved in the attack on the fighting ring.”

“That is true, although there is also, of course, a chance that there is something darker happening.”

At that moment, I heard the front door of the house opening, followed by footsteps, and Brian and Aisha entering the room. Brian gestured something to Colin, and Colin rose from the table.

“My apologies Taylor, something seems to have come up.”

“It is no problem, really, we were almost done.” I replied.

As Colin and Brian left the room, Aisha grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat on it, leaning forward over the back of the piece of furniture. She started lazily grabbing some food from the table with her fingers.

“So, guess what.” She said, making a game out of it. I had my suspicions as to what had happened, give the degree of alarm with which Brian had come to Colin. Something to do with the other unnaturals in the city. Except, besides that, I had nothing to go on.

“What?”

Aisha smiled, eager to share the latest and juiciest gossip she’d acquired.

“There’s these guys in town, calling themselves Witch Hunters. There’s this big knight, completely clad in metal plate, with this battle-axe that’s way too big for normal people to carry. And, there’s this lady, who’s wearing, like, half a ball-gown dress, half armour, and I saw her snap a big log in half by just moving her finger past it. And also, she had this weird beast on a chain, it was sort of like a person, but orange, and with a tail and red hair and weird feet, and she told people not to touch it, but one person did and suddenly fell over like he was asleep.”

I could barely hold all this new information. Witch Hunters, from their name, I could guess at what they were here to do, even though it sounded like they were witches themselves. Did they hold some strange, self-hating ideology? Or were they simply in it for the money? Unnatural strength, slicing things in twain with a touch, and some strange mutant beast-person, it sounded dangerous. Perhaps, it would be prudent not to apply my powers until they had left town again. Surely, without evidence, they would not be able to track me down…


	6. Witch-hunter Melanie

**Chapter 5: Witch-Hunter Melanie**  
Melanie had always found pride in her ability to do anything to solve a problem. She was a professional, and she would complete any contract she accepted. It didn’t matter who she’d have to work with, or who paid her. As long as the target was legitimate, she would hunt it down, kill it, and claim her reward.  
  
This time, the network had sent her to the city of Hamburg, to hunt down whoever was responsible for the attack that had so recently struck. It was a stroke of fortune that she had been so nearby, the tracks that witches left were often rather short-lived, if they left any.  
  
But, before she did any work, she would visit the city’s mayor. Just as she finished any job she was paid for, she would do nothing if she wasn’t being paid.  
  
In that, she differed from her traveling companions. Behind her, keeping distance out of mutual respect, was the reaper of Moscow. Tall, strong, and capable of regenerating from almost any wound, the man had been a Russian nobleman. Having sustained a deadly stomach wound in battle, he had left the battlefield in fear. Roaming the countryside, eventually he had been found by the Doctor, who had promised him a chance to redeem himself for his cowardice.  
  
The Doctor’s marvellous techniques had changed the man, made him stronger and taller, as was visible to all. But she had done something else as well. His heart had been replaced by a device fo the purest science, which nullified all witchcraft in its vicinity.  
  
After this, he had gone to the Tsar’s court, and slaughtered his way towards his ruler, eventually killing the warlock that had controlled the throne from the shadows.  
  
Now, he roamed the civilized world as part of the network, rooting out witchcraft where he could find it, specializing in those who controlled and manipulated others.  
  
At her side was something entirely different. A semi-sentient beast, spawned by the mother of monsters. Her Newter had been a gift from the network, payment for work well done. It was inhuman, the vile spawn of a great evil that had been years ago, locked under a mountain somewhere.  
  
As always, the people in this town stopped and gawked when they saw its orange skin. Some praying, others running, even some approaching in what seemed to be fascination.  
  
“Young man, I wish to speak to your mayor, please inform me as to his location.” She asked of an onlooker.  
  
The man grumbled, pointing in the direction of the main marketplace. She answered with a quick nod, and tugged on Newter’s chain, signalling the creature to follow, before it did something stupid. Some of the children were throwing pebbles at it, it wouldn’t do for it to counter and leave the children drooling on the ground.  
  
After a short walk, the three of them reached the mayor’s mansion. It was late, past the time for supper, but witches did not respect the silence of the night. To the contrary, it tended to be the period that they were most active.  
  
She grasped the doorknocker and dropped it again. Within half a minute, a maid opened the door.  
  
“Can I help you ma’am?” the woman asked.  
  
“This is Mayor Christner’s domicile, is it not? Go fetch your master; I have important things to discuss.”  
  
***  
  
“Two-hundred and fifty Marks, that is all I can offer you right now. Please understand, I would be able to offer more after discussing your offer with the Alderman, but…”  
  
“No need, it will do.” Alexander replied in his gruff, accented voice. Annoying. Technically, they were equals, but the man was very very bad at haggling, probably due to his rich youth as a noble brat.  
  
“Very well, is there anything else you require?” the man asked.  
  
“Yes, you said that there was some speculation about a targeted attack, Who, exactly, do you believe was being attacked?” Melanie said.  
  
“I wouldn’t dare to say I have thought on the motives of plague-bringing witches, but the word in town is that it may have been an attack on mister Meadows, my servant can show you the way to his house.” He replied, motioning to a man standing in the corner, who was suddenly looking very panicked.  
  
“Very well, then let us get started.” She tugged on Newter’s chain. It was looking at the paintings covering the wall, utterly fascinated by the civilized world.  
  
Once outside, Alexander started talking again.  
  
“They seem afraid, more so than usual.”  
  
“Of course, I presume the previous attack was responsible for that.”  
  
“Previous attack? I thought this was the first strike?”  
  
“A different witch, one who danced in flames. She struck the docks not too long ago.”  
  
“I see.” The stoic man replied.  
  
It had gotten darker outside, and there was little activity on the street. Swiftly, they made their way to their target. Bradley’s house.  
  
Once there, the mayor’s servant took his leave.  
  
Melanie steeled herself mentally, putting on her mental mask. She knew how horrible it was, to be attacked by a magic-user without a way to defend yourself, but this called for professionalism, not compassion. She struck the door, and after a minute’s wait, a man opened the door. He looked like a brute, powerful muscles covered by scarred tissue. A soldier, a veteran. He looked ill at ease, his eyes shifting between the three of them. The attack had obviously thrown him off balance.  
  
“Bradley Meadows, I presume?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, what is it?” he answered.  
  
His breath stank of alcohol, the type of stiff that was more riverwater than proper drink. Had he been drinking his worries away? Or was he merely a drunk. From what the mayor had told her, this man had friends in town, both high and low, courtesy of his fighting leagues. Dogs, Cocks, even people.  
  
“They call me Faultline, the witch-hunter. We have come to strike down the evil that has assaulted you last night, and require information on the events.”  
  
“Not much to say.” The man replied. “We got attacked out of nowhere, bugs crawling out of the windows, the floors and the walls. T’was like a biblical thing.”  
  
“Was there anything else? A voice? Someone controlling them?”  
  
“Jan says he heard strange chanting, but me, I didn’t see a thing. Reckon its them Jews though. They’re always up to no good. Just yesterday, one of them attacked me, a good upstanding citizen, in the middle of the streets.”  
  
“The Jews, you say” the gruff voice of Alexander called out. As he approached closer, the man got more and more nervous.  
  
“They’re unnatural, not even Christian. Of course they’re responsible. Them plagues, Locusts, that’s a Jewish thing.”  
  
“Yes, that is how they got rid of the Pharaoh, is it not? Perhaps it is not an individual we’re looking at, but rather a collective, working on some sort of ritual.” Melanie replied.  
  
“Well, I know I had none of them Jews at the gathering when we were attacked.”  
  
Melanie thought about it. Was her initial thought wrong? She had encountered groups before. A cult whose leader granted his followers strength, another who granted otherworldly knowledge. It was not much of a stretch to hypothesize that a group of them could channel magical energies.  
  
She decided it was worth a try. Tonight, they would strike at the Jewish quarter, gathering evidence before they had a chance to hide it. With some luck, they would be able to put a stop to these attacks. If she was unsuccessful, if her theory was wrong, well, they were only Jews.  
  
“I see, and will you hold another of your gatherings tonight?”  
  
“I wasn’t planning on it.” he replied. Fear could be heard in his voice.  
  
“Can you organize one? Lure them out so we may strike at them?”  
  
“I… it’ll be difficult, but, I believe that that may be possible, yes. Many people are still sore from last night’s attack though, might not get a big crowd.’  
  
“It need not be a big event, as long as the enemy knows about it. Thank you for your offer mister Bradley, you are doing a good thing here.”  
  
“I’ll get right to it” he replied, closing the door again.  
  
They walked away from the house, leaving the man to do his job. With some luck, they would catch the enemy right in the act. This time, there would be no complaints about excessive violence and death.  
  
“He was afraid of something.” Alexander said.  
  
“Of course, he is being targeted by a witch of biblical proportions, fear is only natural, even for a man as fearsome looking as he was.”  
  
“That is true…” he replied.  
  
“S’not the witch… s’Alexander” Newter commented.  
  
Faultline gave a sharp pull on the chain, letting the metal of the manacles bite into its flesh a bit. “Silence beast, you will not speak unless spoken to.” she replied.  
  
Perhaps the critter had a point, its mind was like a child’s and those sometimes saw things that the more experienced did not. It was a possibility, that the man was some sort of warlock that had panicked after feeling the effect of Alexander’s engine. However, for the man to attack himself, strike at his own source of income, it wouldn’t make any sense. Perhaps if they found nothing in the night’s raid, and none of the other possible sources had anything useful to say, they could come back here and double-check.  
  
For now though, they would prepare for tonight’s raid. They got ready, waiting in one of the markets close to the Jewish district. With some luck, the man known as the Shadow of Benevolence would find them, and assist them in their assault. By all accounts, he was a good man, using his powers to protect others. It was him, after all, that was said to have defeated the flame witch that had been responsible for the previous attack.


	7. Young Miss Taylor

**Chapter 6: Young Miss Taylor**  
The bed was soft, far softer than I had ever slept in before Colin took me in. The piping in the walls and floors kept everything warm and comfortable, and the special curtains dimmed all the sounds of the city.  
  
Yet I could not sleep.  
  
Outside of that window, somewhere in the city, there was a group of people aiming to kill me. To hunt me down like an animal. This all because I was being stupid about trying to stop animal cruelty.  
  
Could I really just lie here while people were hunting for me? Or worse, would these witch hunters attack innocents, simply because they didn’t know who to fight?  
  
I stood up, unable to get to sleep, and looked behind the loose floorboard beneath which I had hidden the spiderstring rope I used to lower myself down to the ground outside my window. In addition to that, a grey cloak, which would keep me warm and defend me glances from bypassing people. In the end, I also decided to take the small bottled flame Colin had created for me, in case I needed more than just starlight.  
  
Again, I made my way through the alleys of the city, using my multi-limbed soldiers to make sure that I wouldn’t run into anyone. It wouldn’t do to have anyone know that I was on the streets this late in the evening.  
  
A month ago, no-one would have cared. My father had been a shipwright, and I had merely been one of many children roaming the streets. I hadn’t needed to get myself a job, Lustrum had taken care of that, so I mostly roamed around, reading whatever book I could get my hands on, and trying to avoid Emma and her cronies. I hadn’t been quite old enough, nor, I had to admit, developed enough, to attract much attention from the other sex either. Even when people saw me, I had been invisible.  
  
These days however… It was not like master Wallis had made some grand announcement, but rumour spread quickly in this city, and I was quite sure that people on the street would know about “That young lady in Wallis’s house.”  
  
It didn’t help that the clothing I wore was generally not that found on a servant, even when compared to the high-quality fabric Aisha wore.  
  
Were people to see me sneaking around now, they would talk about it. Rumours would spread, rumours that would be bad for master Wallis’s reputation. It would be untoward of me to behave in such a way.  
  
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what Colin’s long term plan for me was. Right now, he was providing me with food, shelter, fine clothes, and what was probably the best library in the vicinity. Life, as hard as it was to live without both my mother and my father, was good. I simply had no idea what the future would hold, and had not asked master Wallis about it so far. Although I had no idea what his plans were, I trusted the man enough not to abuse his power over me. I had some ideas, the type of things a young girl fantasizes about, but I did not consider them very likely.  
  
Most prominent, amongst them, of course, was the idea that he would find some prince somewhere for me to marry. This, of course, was completely preposterous. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she? Sure, I did not quite agree with the concept of an absolute monarchy, or the idea of selling a young girl for some worldly advantage, but that was not the point.  
  
Less unlikely, was the idea that he would ask me to marry him in a few years. I had paid attention, and had not noticed his attention being caught by any other women at least. His mind was too focused on his work to have any interest in the fairer sex. Perhaps, in a few years, he would ask for my hand in marriage. If not out of love, then out of some wish for offspring. I had to admit to myself that, although I did not have any romantic feelings for the man, I did have a great amount of respect for him. Becoming his bride would not be a bad fate.  
  
Related to that, was the possibility of him introducing me to one of his colleagues. If I were to marry one of his fellow natural philosophers, my being capable of reading Latin and ancient Greek, and being familiar with all the classics, and a plethora of treatises written in the last hundred years or so, would be a selling point so to speak. Then, after a few meetings, the man would ask the question, and I would move across the continent to some new place that, with some luck, contained a library with even more books to read.  
  
All of these daydreams about the future, however, did not contain my abilities. It was not that I did not like them. Rather, it was that I simply had no idea what a future like that would look like. Would I end up like Lustrum? Roaming the continent on the war-path? Or would I be put down like an animal by dangerous Witch-Hunters, like the trio in the city right now? Or, would I become a symbol, like the Shadow was? Protecting my city, but otherwise having a normal life?  
  
I laughed at an image that popped into my head. Princess Taylor, wife of a handsome prince by day, bug-witch by night. It seemed preposterous, childish, especially since the prince took on the shape of Brian. It was the kind of thing Emma would have mocked me for, ever since she had betrayed me.  
  
Ending my train of thought, I observed my surroundings. There were a lot of people up and about, for this late at night. Were they all simply wandering around, unable to sleep like me? It seemed unlikely.  
  
They also seemed to be noticing me. Perhaps they were being paranoid? So afraid of bugs that they jumped at every housefly, whether I controlled it or not?  
  
I observed for a while, tracking everyone. Most seemed to be going into the same direction. The same warehouse I attacked last night. Another fight, so soon after the last one?  
  
Perhaps they had asked the witch-hunters to guard their event, keep them safe in case of another attack.  
  
But, by all accounts, that is, Aisha’s account. These people were professionals. They wouldn’t just be standing around; they’d be lying in wait somewhere. If I wanted to do anything, I’d have to find them first, in order not to be caught off guard.  
  
That meant scouting. I wrapped my cloak further around me, keeping warm. Where would I be if I was a bunch of witch-hunters? Rumour was, the Jewish minority in the city was responsible for the attacks, So they’d probably be somewhere between fights and the Jewish district.  
  
After fifteen minutes, I had found them, or, at least, I thought I did. My insect army was acting… strangely around them. The woman, the one in the literal battle-dress, was easy, she swatted at my flies every now and then, but acted much like the other people in town.  
  
The half-human creature she had on a chain however, was rather different. Whenever my insects landed on it, they seemed to simply disappear. They didn’t die, not exactly, but they didn’t respond at all.  
  
The last person, at least, I assumed it was the last person that Aisha had described, I could not feel at all. There was a sphere, about three rods in radius, in which my bugs completely disappeared. Unlike with the boy-creature, they sometimes flew out of the radius on their own, back into my control.  
  
Did he have the ability to dispel any magical effects around him? It seemed to be the case. How would I fight someone like that if he came after me? Right now, I was quite a distance away. They were on the edge of my range, quite unaware of my current position.  
  
Could I get some of the more dangerous insects, bees and wasps and such, get them agitated, and send them in, hoping they’d attack the man on their own? Possibly. The woman seemed like an easy target, as long as she didn’t move into her allies range. That left the tailed creature. Think as I might, I simply did not know how to counter him. Perhaps I could use something similar to the rope I used to sneak out of my chambers? Bind it somehow, by having flying insects entangle it? It seemed complicated, and unlikely to work. It would be better to not have to fight it, simply stay at range, take down the creature’s master, and hope it did not find me.  
  
I wondered what they were talking about. They seemed to be discussing something, at least, the woman was talking to the bubble of empty space. I couldn’t understand the speech, attempting to use the ears of my insects generally resulted in a headache, but I knew they were talking by how she was standing.  
  
I waited until they did something, trying to look inconspicuous, standing around in an alley. Perhaps simply walking through the street would have been less conspicuous, I simply did not know.  
  
Eventually, they had decided upon something, and moved into action. They were going towards the Jewish district, planning to attack the innocent inhabitants of that area.  
  
I could not let that happen. I could not let innocents get hurt because of my actions. Better to fight them here, than to let them go on with their plan.  
  
I moved the swarm that I had gathered near the plaza where they had been waiting into their path. Upon spotting my swarm, the woman shouted something, and ran into the void. The creature, in the meantime, jumped at my swarm. My soldiers were stunned before they could even begin to attack the thing.  
  
It was time to test my plan. I gathered all of my flying stingers; bees, wasps and mosquitos mostly. I had them attack each other, just a bit, to get them agitated, and send them in all at once.  
  
As they were flying in, the moonlight I was moving by was suddenly extinguished. I looked up, and saw only darkness. The dim lights of torches and lamps had disappeared as well, and it was completely dark.  
  
My hand went for the pocket where I kept the small glass light orb. With a personal source, I could see that the environment was covered by a dome of swirling darkness. I hugged my cloak closer to me, dimly aware of the witch-hunters fighting my swarm several streets over.  
  
Out of the shadows, a figure strode forward. Tall, clad in shining armour and dark leather, it made its way towards me in long, sweeping strides. Tendrils of darkness seeped away from his body. Panicking, I set the bugs in the area at him. How had I not felt him coming?  
  
Of course, he could fly, or at least float.  
  
The insects covered his armour, but did not find any open spot. A few of them started chewing on the leather, but they would not be fast enough to save me from the man.  
  
Within seconds, he stood before me. He raised his metal-clad hand towards my face, and pulled my hood down.  
  
I could hear him take a deep breath upon seeing my face, and he dispelled the darkness immediately around him, leaving the large dome that kept us within near darkness, my lamp being the only light source.  
  
The figure spoke out, in an all too familiar voice.  
  
“In god’s name Taylor, what the hell are you doing?”


	8. Colin Wallis, Natural Philosopher

**Chapter 7: Colin Wallis, Natural Philosopher.**  
  
The slow hum of the environmental stabilizer was just barely audible above him, and the bottled flame was the only source of light in the lab. Thick steel plates covered the walls, protecting the place from intruders and the elements alike, but more importantly, protecting them from the lab.  
  
This was not Colin’s Workshop, the place where he built the most wondrous of devices, miracles of science that improved the lives of their users. That was above, in the basement of his small mansion. No, this was his weapons lab, his armoury. This was the place where he forged tools of war. He would speak softly, but just in case, he still had a big stick.  
  
It was also where he made Brian’s equipment. The tools and knickknacks that allowed the young man to do what he did.  
  
There were only two entrances to this place. One of them was hidden in his workshop, the other connected to a tunnel, outside of the mansion.  
  
Right now, Colin was putting the finishing touches on his latest upgrade to his Halberd. In addition to its extending blade and its grappling hook, he was adding what was intended to be a nonlethal option. A Grammic charge channelling along the shaft and the head would temporarily overload the targets nervous system, making it impossible for them to properly control their musculature, as well as applying a great amount of pain. The only thing that was still missing was a proper power source. He had some that would work, send to him by colleagues, but they were all rather large, and would require connecting an external battery. It would be rather inefficient, the cabling itself would leak some energy, it would decrease his mobility, it would be a weak target for opponents to strike at.  
  
Smart as they so often were, he could never help but notice that, interesting as it might be, the inventions of people like Gramme, Richter or even Lady Bailey of the moving city, were so incredibly inefficient, too large, consuming more resources than they needed.  
  
A buzzer went off, just audible above the ever-present hum of the systems. After this, he heard a small change in the system, compensating for the addition of external air.  
  
That would be Brian, the Shadow, returning. Hopefully, he’d have found young Taylor. For the second time, the girl had left her bedroom at night, choosing to roam the streets. The last time, he’d only noticed after checking the logs for the system, having found there was a sudden decrease in body-heat to compensate for.  
  
He was almost surprised when he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the tunnel. So his suspicion was correct, the girl had gained powers after all her traumatic experiences. Her leaving her room had not been caused by restlessness or survivor’s guilt, but had instead been spurred on by her need to use her abilities. He stood up, readying a set of chairs as Brian and Taylor entered the room.  
  
The girl looked to be in shock, afraid, yet angry at the same time. Brian was standing around stoically, hiding his emotions.  
  
“Brian, Taylor, take a seat.” He said, gesturing to the set of chairs.  
  
Brian immediately complied, Taylor was a bit slower on the uptake, first looking around the room. She was wearing a grey fur cloak with a hood. It was enough to protect her from the elements, not enough to protect her identity in the middle of an altercation.  
  
As he sat down himself, he looked at the girl, obviously distraught at the revelations unfolding before her.  
  
“When did it happen?” he asked of her. Had it been the death of her father that unlocked her capabilities? Or some other event he had not known about.  
  
She shrank into herself, the fearfulness he had so often seen in her returning. Had he been wrong about its source? He’d thought it was the shock of losing the last member of her family that had sapped at her confidence. Something that would have been solved by the introduction of a stable environment.  
  
“It was… a few months before… before my dad…”  
  
Brian put his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.  
  
“This girl… she used to be my friend, but… after my mom died, something changed. She started taunting me, throwing me into the mud, telling people not to be my friend…”  
  
“I see.” He replied. Betrayal from a childhood friend certainly fit the pattern of the way traumatizing events and the attainment of unnatural abilities were usually correlated.  
  
“It happened when she and… she and a few other girls, they…” her eyes were getting wet, and Colin decided to add his support to Brian’s.  
  
“It’s alright Taylor. It’s all behind you now.”  
  
“Taylor…” Brian said. “Its… try to remember that you are what you do, not what happens to you. I know it’s hard, but you can’t let what happened to you control your life. Just leave it behind you, and move on. Either metaphorically, or, you know, by travelling halfway across the world to a different continent.” Inserting a grin at the end of it. Taylor had a half-chuckle a Brian’s little joke.  
  
“Now, how about you get some sleep, and we’ll talk some more in the morning.”  
  
“Okay…” she said.  
  
“The door there leads to a staircase that leads to the workshop. I trust you can find your way? You can wake up Aisha if you need some help. She knows about what we do here, if not the specifics of it. You can trust her.”  
  
The girl nodded, and started making her way upstairs after a few seconds.  
  
Once she’d left the room and her footsteps were moving further away, he turned back to Brian.  
  
“So, what’s the situation?”  
  
“Taylor’s the one with the bugs, I’m guessing she heard you complain about the fights and decided to take it upon herself to try and help out with that. She was a bit sloppy, but her range meant no-one but me even suspects her.”  
  
“Purely mental control then, I assume? Not some sort of transformation?”  
  
“No, I don’t believe so.”  
  
“And the Witch-Hunters?”  
  
“I observed them for a bit, Aisha’s intel was accurate. The man in armour possesses unnatural strength, and kept himself at a respectful distance from the woman. I suspect some sort of area-effect. Taylor said she had difficulty affecting him. His name’s Alexander, and has an eastern European accent. Russian, perhaps, although I cannot be sure.  
  
The woman is German, or well-trained in hiding her accent. She seems to be, at least informally, in charge. She carries herself as a melee-combatant, although she does not seem to carry any armaments. I suspect some sort of contact-based power.”  
  
“And the boy?” Colin asked.  
  
“He seems to be intelligent, although the woman tries to suppress it. Behaviour I’ve seen before. Its far easier to treat someone the way she treats him if you pretend he’s subhuman.” Brian replied, reflecting on his own past.  
  
“What do you think? Is he one of the people Andino described in his letters?”  
  
“A child of the mother of monsters? I believe so yes. Probably sold soon after his creation, finding himself in the witch-huntress’ hands. Intelligent, but seemed to have little experience to back it up.”  
  
“Very well.” Colin replied. “and their plans?”  
  
“Seem to have been successfully blocked by Taylor’s actions, although that might just mean they will ask for reinforcements from whomever send them here. It bothers me that we don’t know.”  
  
“I agree on that… Very well, it seems that Taylor’s mishaps have bought us some time, we should move quickly, if we wish to get to them while they are still of guard, licking their wounds.”  
  
“What’s the plan? I could go in, but that doesn’t solve the larger problem, it’ll just set the more paranoid people in the populace against me as well.”  
  
“Agreed. Very well, it seems I must take action myself. Can I count on you to have my back if things to awry?”  
  
“Of course.” Brian replied, loyal as always.  
  
Colin looked at the halberd, it seemed like he would not have time to finish the internal battery for the Grammic field. An external battery it would be then. Then, protection, an undersuit of specialized fibers, ceramic plates to protect his vitals, a portable boundary generator. Perhaps the gas canister? No, if it came to a fight, it would happen in the city, the danger of innocent casualties was too high.  
  
Something to use at range, perhaps the net cannon? That, and the experimental canisters. He had to be prepared in case the boy decided to attack him, given his poisonous nature.  
  
As a final measure, he grabbed the bottle with the chemical concoction. A stimulant, similar to the body’s natural reaction to combat, but far more effective. Bloodlust in a bottle, originally designed by doctor Batson.  
  
An hour later, he found himself in front of city hall. From word on the street, he had gathered that an emergency meeting had been declared, and the aldermen had been called to a meeting. He looked over himself. His cloak did a good job of hiding the layers of armour, and most of his tools were small enough to be hidden. His halberd, folded up, was hidden on his back, beneath the cloak. As long as he did not take it off, no-one needed to know that he was heavily armed. Hopefully, the witch-hunters would agree with his demands. If not, he was prepared.  
  
He did not hold high hopes for a peaceful solution to the problem. People who took up manhunting as a profession tended not to be the most moral of individuals. That said, he could not allow himself to fail here. If he had to kill the both of them, so be it.  
  
He pushed the front door open himself, for there was no attendant beside it. Walking the halls towards the council chamber, he could hear the sounds of discussion. In one movement, he opened the final door.  
  
The mayor, several aldermen, and the witch hunters were present. The first group was split between those who had obviously been woken up in the middle of the night, and people who had still been awake at the late hour. He could guess why.  
  
“Ah, you must be master Wallis then?” the only woman in the room said.  
  
He looked at her, observing the extensive armouring hidden within her battledress. Brian had missed a few hidden armaments, knifes hiding between armour plates and a miniature crossbow in the right sleeve.  
  
“I am, and you are?”  
  
“The name’s Melanie, witch hunting is my profession.”  
  
“I see, so you are one of the suicidal sort then?” he replied. It was strange, how the empowered so often found some way to tell themselves that they were not like the others. Exceptionalism, massive generalizations applied to everyone but themselves. Perhaps, with some time, he could have helped the woman understand her folly. However, that was not why he had come here.  
  
“Suicidal? No, I know what I am doing, and I can assure you, we are quite successful.” She replied. He laughed internally, she was making this so easy.  
  
“Yes, you do seem to have things very much under control. On a completely different note, do you need anything for all those sting marks?”   
  
This time, the man in armour replied. “We have things under control, reinforcements arrive within week. No need to worry.” He said in a Russian accent.  
  
“Well, it is good to hear that you’ve got that problem under control.” Colin replied. “That is not, however why I am here.”  
  
He turned away from the witch hunters, towards the mayor’s seat.  
  
“Mayor Christner, would you be able to enlighten me as to the legality of the matter of slavery? Given the current situation, I am afraid I might have misunderstood the law.”  
  
The man looked at him with a worrying glance. Understandable. His first responsibility was to the people of Hamburg, not to some mutated young man he had never seen before. Even though the man’s conscience might object, his duty to his people went first.  
  
“Mayor?” he repeated, pressing the issue.  
  
“I do believe that the city of Hamburg does not permit slavery inside its walls, of Christians or otherwise.” He replied. An angry expression reached the huntresses face, while the orange boy was looking around with a bewildered look on his face.  
  
“Then, since this young man is inside the city walls, is it not obvious that he is the victim of false imprisonment?”  
  
“Nonsense!” The woman shouted. “It is a beast, not a man! Is the sheep a slave of the shepherd? A dog the slave of its master? You speak nonsense foolish philosopher.”  
  
“Nonsense, you say? Very well, if it is nonsense, you would have no problem with a test of its intelligence, would you not? Or are you afraid that, instead of a beast, we will find that it is a man, mutated by magic’s beyond its ken?”  
  
The mayor was sweating, unable to bring himself to pick sides. The alderman were discussing things under their breath. It did not matter.  
  
“Look at it you fool, it lacks an umbilicus, it was not born of a woman, and lacks a soul!”  
  
In the corner of his eye, he saw the Russian knight tighten his grip on his battle-axe. A violent act? Or simply intimidation? As far as these people knew, he was just a philosopher and an engineer.  
  
“Your point being?” he asked of the woman.  
  
“It’s mind is like a dog, like that of a talking bird. You are an intelligent man, you must understand that animals are below man! Would you have us all eat nothing but bread and drink nothing but water? Unable to eat meat or drink milk? You speak nonsense.”  
  
That… was an interesting idea. In a way, the imprisonment of animals was fundamentally unjust. Suffering visited upon them purely for mankind’s pleasure. In a perfect world, perhaps there would be no need for such practices. Alas, to proposition such a thing right now, he was already regarded as an eccentric for his views. It would end in ridicule, rather than societal advancement.  
  
“Again, allow me to assuage my conscience, and talk to him in private.”  
  
The Russian interjected again, his voice rising in volume. “And lose our protection against the ongoing witchcraft? Do not be a fool, philosopher, you know nothing of battle and we are at war!  
  
“ORDER, I will have ORDER.” The mayor shouted, silencing the room. The man was angry, frustrated at the loss of control, the change of topic in the conversation. Torn between his conscience and his duty to his people. Colin did not envy the man’s position.  
  
“We will table this discussion until AFTER the crisis has been dealt with.” The man said. Trying to find a compromise.  
  
“And when will that be?” Colin replied. “In a week? When their reinforcements arrive? Or in a month, when they have not found a trace of their invisible opponent? It is easy for you to say that Roy, you are not the one that is naked and in chains, pulled around like a rabid dog.”  
  
“Silence! Master Wallis, you will not disrespect me any further in MY council meeting.”  
  
Perhaps he had gone too far, calling the man by his given name, but the man’s behaviour annoyed him. Most everyone in the room knew that he was right, but they were too afraid to do something about it.  
  
He turned to the Russian man. “And you, sir knight? Will you stand by while an innocent is kept as a slave? Have you not sworn vows of honour?”  
  
The man turned to him, hands on his weapon. A furious expression. Colin got the distinct impression that he should not have said what he had said.  
  
“You insult my honour, philosopher?” the man asked, the question completely rhetorical.  
  
Colin turned around, no good would come of this meeting, and to break the mayor’s rule, that the discussion would be tabled until after the crisis had been resolved, would be seen as reasonable in the people’s eyes, not something he could break without greatly damaging his reputation, and with that his capability to act. Christner had won, for now. Perhaps he could create a new plan, help Taylor defeat the witch hunters in more permanent manner, ending the battle between witch and witch hunter that way.  
  
Before passing through the door, he could not help but leave one last biting remark, get in the last word against these reprehensible people. Christner might have beaten him, but they most certainly had not.  
  
“I did not insult your honour, for there was nothing to insult.”  
  
Again, he quickly realized that honour had been a very sore point for the man. This time, it was not a tight grip on the battle-axe. This time, it was a chair flying at him. He turned around, barely dodging the flying piece of furniture, only to see the knight charging at him.  
  
Dimly, he could hear people shouting and screaming, the mayor hammering his desk for order, it didn’t matter. He threw of his cloak, and grabbed his halberd with one hand, unfolding it. With the other, he quickly downed the stimulant.  
  
Before his eyes, time seemed to slow down. Slowly, step by step, he saw the Russian getting closer, through the helmet, he could spot the man’s eyes, slowly widening in surprise as he saw the Halberd unfolding. In one corner of his eye, he could see the huntress trying to send her slave at him, the young man trying to protest, but too afraid to really resist. On the other side of the room, he saw that some people had started to flee the room.  
  
Another footstep from the Russian, and his Halberd fully unfolded. He readied it, preparing to intercept the man as he came closer.  
  
Another step, he saw the woman starting to grab something from her jacket, a knife, or some other weapon. The strides of the knight were long and graceful, carrying him great distances. Most definitely an enhanced physique. It would not be enough, no matter how strong the knight was, Colin was faster, smarter, he had better equipment.  
  
Suddenly, the world sped up again, and he could only barely sidestep the brute. His Halberd got caught on the man’s armour, almost getting ripped out of Colin’s hands. Quickly, he switched the device to its grappling modus, a length of chain extending between them as the mad charge carried the man further past Colin’s location. After another second, the world slowed back down.  
  
A nullification field of some sort then. He would have to send a letter to Batson, informing of the weakness in the formula, and asking about the principles behind it.  
  
He took a quick glance behind him. The woman had a weapon now, and was getting into position. The boy was still resistant, standing at her side. The woman said something, but he could not quite understand it under the sound of blood rushing through his veins.  
  
He activated the mechanism on his Halberd just when the knight had come to a halt. The chain started reeling in, making the head of the Halberd cut into the knights armour, and pulling the two of them together. Prepared for this, Colin readied his leg, his boots were made of enhanced steel, with retractable spikes for grip on walls and other inclines. They would do here.  
  
Then, he saw the man do the same thing with his Axe, getting ready to smack it into him. Quickly, still at a great enough distance for the formula to work, Colin grabbed the net launcher, aiming to entangle the weapon. Less than a heartbeat after launching the net, the world sped up again, and he felt his leg crashing into the man’s stomach, through his armour, while the Axe was tangled up in the net.  
  
Before the knight could react, he called the head of his halberd back. He had no time to lose, no time to think without the combat drug. Deciding he could not afford to think of a better plan, he struck with all his strength at one of the man’s legs, severing it at the knee.  
  
Just in time, as he felt a knife embed itself into the armour on his back. He dashed out of the knight’s nullification field, and saw time flow down again. Deftly, he dodged the next knife, sidestepping it with ease. He rushed forward, seeing the woman react. She did something with the chain she had, and he saw Grammic sparks where the chain met the boy’s skin. Then, she threw the chain on the ground, all the while running away. The boy rushed at him, spurred on by the sparks. Unlike the nullification field, he had come prepared for this, he grabbed the canister, activating it, and throwing it at the boy. Quickly, white-yellowish foam came out and started covering the boy. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it would incapacitate him. Hopefully, its insulating nature would protect the boy from the Grammic charges coming from the chain.  
  
He dashed past the boy, at the huntress. The woman was kneeling, doing something to the floor with her fingers. As he ran at her, the floor started slowly collapsing. The woman had somehow cut through the supports holding up the building, and he could see the ground beneath him start sinking into the basement.  
  
He made one final jump, trying to get at the woman with his halberd before he could no longer reach her. Striking out, he activated the Grammic field. The woman moved her finger to intercept, slicing right through the steel of his weapon, but she still got shocked by the charge. He held out his hand, and hung himself on the remaining edge of the floor, the area behind him having fallen down. Before he could pull himself up, he suddenly fell down. A secondary cut by the woman.  
  
He looked around, finding himself in the basement with the foamed up teenager. Above him, he heard the huntress moving, and eventually saw what she had been doing. The roof of the council hall had started collapsing.  
  
He eyed the falling rocks, and dashed for the boy. Several seconds before the roof started fully collapsing, he was able to deploy the hard-light barrier, defending them from the falling building.  
  
Cowering beneath the shield, he went over the encounter. The mayor and the alderman had escaped, as had the huntress. The knight was immobilized and wounded, probably caught up in the collapse.  
  
The entire thing had been a mess, caused by his own damnable tongue, always saying the wrong things. Still, he’d rescued the young man for now. Things could have gone worse.  
  
After a few minutes, darkness penetrated into the bubble of air, smothering out all light and sound. He started counting. After roughly a thousand seconds, he saw the darkness disappear, and Brian standing there with a mechanical gauntlet, holding up some of the rubble.  
  
“You just had to keep all the fun to yourself huh?”


	9. Princess Sarah of Denmark

**Chapter 8: Princess Sarah of Denmark.**  
  
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances. That, at least, was what the famed English playwright, William Shakespeare, said.  
  
My brother Reginald? He disagreed. One day, we were reading Sonnets together, the next, he died  
  
My father claims it was a foreign assassin that did the deed. The servants are convinced witchcraft was at play, and the foreigners believe father had him killed on purpose. They are all wrong.  
  
My brother had gotten sick of acting. The problem was not that he disliked his role, the problem was that he had no choice in the matter. He was the prince, and he would act as such. Had he abandoned his role, the story of the play of life would have changed to fit. The playwright that is god would have foreseen it already, and the notion of free will was an illusion.  
  
So he had left the stage, throwing the book at the playwright, leaving me behind not knowing why.  
  
But I digress. When talking to an audience that is purely a metaphor in one’s own head, one should take care to properly introduce oneself. After all, you did not exist before I thought you up.  
  
My name is Sarah. I can already hear you ask, “Just Sarah? Is this some bawdy show about a peasant girl?”  
  
I assure you, it is not. I am called Sarah because I need no further introduction. Sure, I have a family name, but very few bother using it. For I am Sarah, princess of Denmark, daughter of King Christian IV of Denmark and Anne Catherine of Brandenburg. I have three sisters and three brothers. Or rather, I had three brothers, only two remain. One month ago, the understudy took over for Reginald, playing the role of heir apparent.  
  
As seventh child of the king, and a daughter, my role in the stage we call the world is simple. I obey my mother, I act in accordance with my father’s wishes, and I marry whosoever my father deems best for the country. Whether he is a foreign noble, or some empowered individual that my father wishes to secure the services of.  
  
So why, then, had my dear brother decided to leave me behind, leaving only his books for me to find?  
  
For weeks, I looked through his papers, trying to find out what had happened. The world was a stage, a play for the entertainment of some almighty being. A farce, a lie in which the suffering was all too real. Yet even death did not free us from the chains of the cosmic playwright, for god would have foreseen it anyway. Why had my brother thought it was an answer?  
  
I guess I don’t need to explain the next part, after all, it was you guys, the audience, that had started talking to me. Reading me the script, explaining what was to come, what motivated whom. Yet for all my knowledge, I was still powerless to act. I, much like everyone else, had a role to play in life, and mine did not include acting on voices in my head. Sorry audience.  
  
Which brings us to the current moment, in the current day. I had spent my day reading in the gardens, when the servants had accosted me. Immediately, I knew what would occur. They would get me properly dressed, in preparation for an official dinner. At that dinner, father would have invited some important young man. My role, then, would be to act every part the charming young princess, only to quickly find out that he preferred one of my older sisters, who were playing a similar part. Eventually, their true nature would shine through, the young man would find himself rebuked, and the whole play started over again. This was how it always happened, except of course for when Hilda married king Gustav of Sweden, securing peace in the North.  
  
The servants that were helping me get dressed for the play, were also merely playing their part, as was were the girls messing with my hair.  
  
The role of my ladies-in-waiting was slightly more complicated. They were to offer me companionship and assistance, but their role was also to secure political favours for their families.  
  
So then, voices in my head, what say you of this dress?  
  
I must admit, it is a beautiful red and white piece, perhaps a bit sparse at the neck and collarbones. The question was, who was it for. And now, we get to the pesky part. For you are an audience watching for the first time, and do not possess knowledge of the future you can tell me. Instead, we must analyse what we have already seen, must we not? The solution, then, is simply to ask another character in our play.  
  
“So then, who is the honoured guest at tonight’s dinner?” I asked, looking at one of my ladies-in-waiting, the one that was in charge of keeping my schedule. She was some important duke’s niece, and, as you have told me, she was given this position as a favour to her mother, who had once been the secret lover of one of my father’s nephews. We are quite good at ferreting out people’s secrets, are we not? Metaphorical voice in my head? Too bad too much of this nonsense makes my head hurt. Alas, even the best audience gets tired.  
  
“A minor Prussian nobleman by the name of Richard Anders, and his son, Maxwell, your highness.”  
  
“I see. Tell me, is he at least attractive?”  
  
What is that, little voice in my head? Why yes, I agree, it is rather suspicious that the servants suddenly stopped for a second as the subject of the Anders family was breached. Perhaps there was indeed something there. Perhaps, also, I should lay off on the metaphor. Perhaps also not. It is an entertaining game to play.  
  
I looked around the room, listening intently to the little voice in my head that told me what I needed to know. My ladies-in-waiting, three noblewomen of high birth, were standing to my right. Dorothea kept my schedule, making sure we went from scene to scene just as planned. Sophie had taken it upon herself to know who’s who, it would be embarrassing to forget an actor’s name, even is so many of them are seemingly irrelevant. Elisabeth was less useful, although she had taken it upon herself to properly instruct the servants in their role.  
  
It would be a mistake to say that they played their role for me, they had their own roles, their own fathers to obey. The same could be said for the servant placing jewels in my hair. She reported to someone else, who reported to someone else, ad infinitum.  
  
Katherine, however, was a different story. She was mine, and mine alone. A lie, but a comfortable one. She too, was ultimately instructed by my father. However, she had been assigned the role of obeying my every command, as long as she remained near me.  
  
If everyone was but an actor playing a role, Katherine was a star actress that had somehow ended up playing a background character, a character that didn’t even have a real name, servant number #12 or something like that.  
  
Her body was thin and lean, and she was wearing simple white clothes. I had seen her leap buildings and punch through solid steel. She had the ability to strengthen parts of her body, making them invulnerable, and striking with increased strength. I was also quite sure that her reflexes were far beyond those of mortal men.  
  
She had been roaming the streets of Copenhagen when an individual calling himself the Overman had informed my father of her existence. My father had promptly offered her a new role in the play of life. She was my maid, my protector, and more importantly, my friend. Best of all, she had not yet adapted to her role, cursing like a street-child would. It was a wonderful helping of honesty in a world of lies.  
  
Eventually, Elisabeth decided to break the silence created by my question.  
  
“Well, he has brilliant blue eyes, and a strong jaw, he’s really quite attractive for a thirty-five year old your highness.”  
  
“Thirty-five, and this Richard is already through his first wife?” I could not help but wonder what kind of role this man was playing.  
  
“Forgive me your highness, I was talking about the son, Maxwell.”  
  
I struggled to understand my father’s thoughts. A thirty-five year old without wealth or land to call his own, from Prussia no less. Were the insights of the voices wrong? Is this Maxwell not a prospective suitor? Or does he have supernatural abilities? those did not seem to be picky about who they chose to empower, perhaps Lord Anders had simply gotten lucky, and gained a powerful ability in addition to his birth right.  
  
I could see Katherine biting her lips, quite obviously trying to hold back a remark that was not fit for polite company, much less for the ears of a princess.  
  
“Very well, Dorothea, how long until dinner?”  
  
Dorothea quickly gazed at the large standing clock, calculating how long it would take for the next scene to start. ”About three-quarters of an hour.”  
  
Finally, it seemed that the servants were ready with my dress, the girl doing my hair having finished as well. Costume changes… such a bother.  
  
“Mirror” I said, holding out my hand. One of the servants quickly fulfilled my request and I looked at myself, trying to figure out what role my parents wanted me to play.  
  
Usually, when a possible suitor came around, either noble or powered, my mother made me dress demurely, like a proper lady. Shy, well-mannered and well-educated. My older sisters, the unmarried ones at least, were usually given the sluttier roles.  
  
Today, however, this was evidently not the case. Maybe it was because Hilda had gotten married to the king of Sweden, and her role in this play had opened up, but it seemed far more likely that she simply had a very low opinion of whoever she was trying to impress. My entire neck was bare but for a single necklace, and the bare skin continued downward much further than was proper.  
  
My role in this play was clear. I was to behave myself, to try and impress Maxwell Anders, and to attempt to win a powerful ally for Denmark.  
  
My dark blonde hair was done up in the usual fashion, bejewelled clasps holding it in place, and the tiredness around my eyes had been hidden skilfully. It had been hard to sleep with the pounding headaches that followed me around these days. Thank you for those, audience.  
  
While I was looking at myself, Sophie and Dorothea were gossiping about something irrelevant, trouble in the south, catholic complaints, the usual. There was not much to it at all. Elisabeth was humming to herself, content with where she was right now. Most of the servants had left the room, their role was over for now. The only maid remaining was Katherine. Perhaps, it was time to ask her about this Maxwell person.  
  
“Katherine, do you happen to know anything about these visitors?”  
  
The girl remained silent, looking at the three ladies-in-waiting.  
  
What’s that audience? Is she signalling that it wouldn’t be proper to talk with them in the room? No shit, you can be so useful sometimes. I should forget about you, then you will disappear, since you exist only in my mind.  
  
I turned to my noble companions. “A moment?” Slightly insulted, the trio left the room. Not too insulted, after all, I was the only reason they even had a role here, but insulted nonetheless. Once they’d left the room, I turned towards my Katherine with a questioning gaze.  
  
“They make metal, and lots of it, strong steel, from what I heard. Thing is, they’re fucking assholes. Maxwell, he’s got two children, both bastards. Mother of the youngest is right here in the fucking town with him.”  
  
I sighed. Was this the role I would play? Young wife of a womanizing idiot that couldn’t keep his dick in his breeches for a week? I’d have to watch out at dinner, Katherine’s tongue was infectious, and did not quite fit my role.  
  
“So my father wants to trade me to a savage for economic and military profit, and I’m dressed like this to drive down the price…”  
  
‘Your highness?” Katherine asked.  
  
“Yes? Speak freely Katherine, it is only the two of us.” And you of course, my audience. But let us keep that a secret, or Katherine will think me crazy. She won’t say anything, but she’ll think it, and we’ll both know it.  
  
“I don’t see the fucking problem, just act like a bitch and make sure he doesn’t want to marry you. Just tell him he’s a fucking asshole and he’ll want nothing to do with you.”  
  
“Katherine… I know you mean well, but… it is not that simple. Father wants me on my best behaviour, mother wishes for me to try and charm the man. The fate of Denmark may lie in the balance. It is my duty…” I exclaimed. I had a role to fulfil in life. I wasn’t my brother, I wouldn’t simply quit in the middle of the play, would I? Anyway, scene end.  
  
  
Dinner was, as it was so often, a horrid affair. Watching your food is a horrible prospect if your imaginary audience keeps telling you everything that’s wrong with it. Still, it was preferable to looking around me. Maxwell was talking to one of my sisters, Hedevig, telling her about the time he travelled to Africa, where he had fought the black-skinned savages as he called them. He spoke of piercing their skin with metal blades, and fighting off attacks from savage barbarians who knew nothing about civilization, and understood only war. My sister looked like she was engrossed in the story. She had always been a good actress, lying trough her teeth every moment of every day.  
  
What little Max had forgotten to say, of course, was how he’d started the fights by enslaving a fishing village, killing all who resisted and raping the women. It was only logical that the natives had replied with violence, but Lord Anders wished to blame it on their skin. It was a bad excuse, and he knew it, but many people believed such things, and he obviously knew how to use these misgivings.  
  
The other visitor, the even older Lord Richard Anders, was not interested in my sisters. No, I would not be so lucky. I could feel the gaze of the old man moving across my Décolletage, undressing me with his eyes. And let me tell you, it doesn’t help to have you inform me of exactly what he wishes to do with me. The man was at least four times my age, and had had two different wives in the past. So please, voice in my head, tell me that they died naturally.  
  
My mother was observing, looking at Maxwell and Hedevig, then at Richard. Father was talking to one of his special generals, a twenty-something man named Ryan Murray, promoted to the top not only for his power, but also for the way the common soldiers seemed to love him. He created spheres that dragged things into them, and used them to toss people and objects around. Sadly, his character was not one that needed a marriage to be drawn to our side. Marrying him would not have been a bad role to play.  
  
I had noticed that my glass had remained well-filled, and looked around. I saw Katherine there, carrying a pitcher of wine, smiling a secret smile at me. Unlike the ladies-in-waiting that had been assigned to me for political reasons, I was actually starting to like her. Glancing around the great hall, I could see the ladies sitting somewhere else, at a less important table. They didn’t bother to even glance at me. But for Katherine, I was alone in this role.  
  
Eventually, the final course of the meal was done with. I looked at Hedevig. Sadly, her conversation with Maxwell had gone sour. Perhaps she had simply disliked him too much to keep up the act, but with my luck, she had seen the old man’s behaviour and decided to have someone else bear the burden today.  
  
Alas, Richard had not yet decided to speak to me, meal was over, something that, usually, meant I had successfully avoided my next role for another month or so.  
  
But today’s play was not like the others, today, there would be an extra scene.  
  
“Lord Anders, shall we retire for a game of chess?” my father said. Not, in and of itself, a suspicious move. He had not had a chance to talk with his guest during the meal, and it was only logical to wish to spend time with foreign visitors, was it not?  
  
“Of course, your highness, although I must warn you, I am quite skilled at the game.” Richard replied. Why yes, he was utterly self-assured in his role wasn’t he? Worse, he had reason to be.  
  
“Skilled, you say? Then you should try playing my daughter.”  
  
Ah, here it came, father’s little ploy to make the man fall further in love with me. Or perhaps merely to make him lust after me, both would serve his cause.  
  
“Sarah, will you join us?” he asked. It was not a question.  
  
I could already see the next scene. I would play chess with the old man, or at least sit right in front of him, while my father discussed politics. Then, the topic of alliances and loyalties would come up. He would steer the conversation towards ways to seal the deal on such an alliance, and oh look, an eligible young lady right there in the room! Of course, he couldn’t have his dear daughter move all the way to Prussia, so if he gave the man some land in Denmark, maybe he could live there instead? Perhaps help a bit with the natural lack of resources on our little collection of sand-dunes?  
  
“Yes father, of course, that would be delightful” I answered. After all, my role was that of the dutiful princess. I stood up, steadying myself with a hand on the table. Good old Katherine, helping me get too drunk to remember the coming scene.  
  
As I stood up, my father took my hand, steadying me, and we left the room together with lord Anders, followed by several servants, including Katherine, who was still carrying her wonderful pitcher.  
  
Father’s private leisure room was rather interesting to behold. It was located in the middle of the palace, without windows to the outside, but a glass ball hanging from the ceiling lit it up.  
  
What’s that audience? A Grammic current was creating all that light? How very useful, that was exactly what I needed to know here. Now be quiet, or you’re going to give me another headache, in addition to my incoming hangover.  
  
The last time I had been in this room, had been four years ago, when I had been twelve. My father had shown me one of his most recent purchases, the mechanical Turk, a mechanical device that could play chess on its own, created by a man called Andrew Richter. It had been a difficult opponent, but then again, I had been twelve.  
  
Since I’d last played in a scene set here, he had added quite a few props. A table for billiards, game tables from the orient and some sort of device with a horn on it. What’s that audience? Did that thing play music without a musician present? Oh my, thank you for telling me, how very useful!  
  
While a servant was setting up the chess-board, father started speaking with Anders about the topic of religion, and our glorious playwright in the sky.  
  
Although it was mostly the split between Catholics and Protestants, not about the futility of making choices in a preordained world. Not too long ago, the Holy Roman Emperor had been assassinated I still remembered how shocked father had been after hearing of it. An assassin called Lustrum, leading a group of revolutionaries, had slaughtered him within a month of his coronation.  
  
Ferdinand had been a devout catholic, and had made some rather harsh statements towards protestants. Thus, as my father was explaining, many Catholics, including the new emperor, the old emperor’s brother, blamed Protestantism for Lustrum’s action.  
  
Wait, did I say that the discussion was about religion? Scratch that, it was basic us and them thinking, the religious argument was largely irrelevant.  
  
“So, if the emperor were to make good on his threats, and attempt to outlaw Protestantism in the empire, what would you do, your highness?” Anders asked.  
  
“A difficult question. After all, my first duty is to the people in my borders. It would not be easy to endanger them for the sake of another.”  
  
“Yet there is no guarantee that the Catholics will stop at the empire.”  
  
“True, of course. But as you know, war these days is far from a sure thing. The wrong individual in the right place…”  
  
“I see what you mean, and I must agree, after all, what good is an army if it can be taken down in a single move.” Anders said. How subtle, informing my father of the fact that he believed he could take down an army on his own. Sure, he believed it, but that didn’t automatically mean it was true. Alas, my audience cannot help me know things I have no knowledge about. It can, however, inform me that I was drinking a very good vintage indeed.  
  
I sat down in one of the chairs standing next to the chess-board. It did not matter to my role whether I stood or sat, so I might as well give my wobble legs some reprieve, right? Anders sure agreed, as he sat down on the opposite side of the board.  
  
“Well then, it is only proper that the lady chooses sides, is it not?”  
  
How lovely, he was pretending to be a real gentleman. I turned the board around, giving him the favoured position. “I must say you do look like man who prefers white, do you not?”  
  
He chuckled. Great job drunk Sarah, now he likes you for your mind as well.  
  
He made the first move, and I countered. I’d always found chess fun, and I have to admit, it is even more fun if there’s a voice in your head telling you all the best moves.  
  
So, voice in my head, the real question is, can you also get drunk? Or is that just me?  
  
Anders was indeed quite a capable player, had I not had a little voice telling me what his plans were, he might have won. Had I been sober, however, he would not have stood a chance.  
  
I looked at my glass, then back at Katherine. She smiled at me, did she have some sort of plan? Why yes, of course she did. Now, what would her plan be? Perhaps, yes, perhaps her plan would be to give me more wine. It was a good plan.  
  
She refilled my glass with the wonderful red liquid, and I continued listening in on my father’s conversation.  
  
“You have heard the news about King Sigismund, yes?” father asked.  
  
“The Polish monarch? I don’t believe so, I tend not to be overly interested in the affairs of Catholics.”  
  
“The man has remarried, again.”  
  
“Another sister? Or something original this time.”  
  
Sister… sister… Ah, yes, of course, after his first wife died, the man had married his wife’s younger sister, trading her in for a newer model. I wondered what he’d gotten himself this time. Luckily, I hadn’t been worried that father had married me to him, for the man was Catholic.  
  
“Not a sister, but a girl, roughly Sarah’s age. Goes by the name of Victoria. I have been informed that she brought her extended family, most of whom have abilities.”  
  
Subtle father, subtle. The obvious suggestion here being, of course, that Richard should also bring his entire family over after marrying me.  
  
“Oh, interesting, gearing up for war, is he?”  
  
“If so, I am happy to have some distance between us.”  
  
The conversation went on like that for a bit, entirely transparent in its purpose. I had Katherine refill my glass, and Richard asked me for a rematch. I obliged, and found him a much more difficult opponent this time. Had he been play-acting at being merely above average? Please do tell me audience, this is the kind of stuff I need to know if I am to remain in character.  
  
What is that, audience? Do you think my mental faculties are being impaired? Well, I beg to disagree, my mental faculties are just fine. It is simply that he is cheating, playing with two different kings on the same board.  
  
Slowly, I felt something moving in my stomach. Annoying… I’d have to remove it. To the ladies room it was, then. I stood up, almost falling over, when…  
  
I looked at the board, now covered in the contents of my stomach, some of if had gotten on Richard’s clothes. I wondered why I wasn’t lying on the floor, had I not started falling down? Ah, yes, the warm arms of Katherine held me up at the shoulders. She was rather good at her role, had I said that already.  
  
“Your Majesty, I apologize” Katherine said, all the while trying to help me up. “It seems that the wine had not been as watered as I had expected.”  
  
I could see Dick fussing over his clothes. Had puking on his favourite outfit been enough? I had not even been my plan to do so.  
  
Father walked forward and held a hand to my face. It felt warm and nice. “Bring her to her bed, and make sure she has plenty to drink.” He said. Ever the caring man. Mostly in the way that a farmer cared about his livestock, but also because he loved me. He played a good father.  
  
Then, Richard spoke up. “Princess Sarah, if you have recovered by then, I would love to have luncheon with you tomorrow. Perhaps we can finish our rematch?”  
  
I saw my father beginning to smile, happy that his plan had worked. He believed he had found a new role for his daughter, as wife of a mighty metal man. I forced my face into a soft smile, and resumed my role. “Of course, Lord Anders, it would be a pleasure.”  
  
As Katherine guided me back to my room, I felt a touch of despair come over me. Once there, she helped me out of my clothes, and undid whatever had been done with my hair, all the time feeding me water to drink.  
  
“Sorry bout that… Guess it wasn’t enough for a fucker like that huh…”she said.  
  
The roof of my bed started moving, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Katherine… that’s no way to talk about my future husband…” I said.  
  
She didn’t reply, and I laid there for a while, catatonic. The man must have been sixty, perhaps older. Was my role truly to marry this man? To procreate with someone that could have been my grandfather? Would he make his son call me mother?  
  
I was dimly aware of Katherine crawling into my bed, keeping an eye on me. Probably because father instructed her to. It wasn’t her fault, she was simply playing the role assigned to her. We all were, even father, even Anders.  
  
Could I do what Reginald had done? Take myself out of the play in a final act of defiance? I did not want to marry the old man, but did I want to die? For hours, I was lying there, awake yet too dazed to move.  
  
  
  
Or, perhaps, could I play the same role in a different play? Follow the example of Shakespeare’s characters, defy my duty? That, in itself, was an important role, was it not? A good princess, an obedient one, was hidden in the background. A naughty one, one that ran away from home, she could be a main character. And what was better than a main character getting advice from her metaphorical audience?  
  
I sat up, noticing that more of the alcohol had left my body. Loyal little Katherine was still sleeping, ready to protect me from all danger. Would she attempt to rescue me from myself? Better not to find out, better to hope she did not wake up. It would be easy, with the audience telling me when she was about to wake up.  
  
I snuck through my room, gathering the few things I truly loved. A small portrait of my brother, the first necklace my mother had given me, a Swedish purse from my sister that I had filled with coins when I could. I grabbed a warm cloak and a pair of shoes, and snuck out of the door, through the palace. Avoiding all who could see me. Slowly, drunkenness was replaced by tiredness and an oncoming headache. Eventually, sneaking between guards and under a leaving cart, I had found my way outside. Copenhagen now lay before me, with all its beauty. In the early morning light, I could see people moving around, and the audience whispered to me what they were doing.  
  
I stepped forward, taking onto myself a brand new role, one that I had chosen for myself. I could not write god’s script, but I could choose my role.  
  
The city, I quickly found, was not as beautiful as it had been when I had observed it from my carriage. There was excrement (equine) everywhere, in addition to more excrement ( canine) and finally a small helping of excrement (human). I closed the curtain, shutting out the audience to save myself from a headache, as I explored around. I would have to find some way to secure myself passage out of the city, or father would surely find me within the week. People knew what I looked like, and there were several paintings of me that could be used to inform people. Worst of all, unlike some people, my face did not require liberal reinterpretation to look good on canvas, the paintings would actually be useful.  
  
I closed my nose, walking through a street filled with people doing the foulest of things. Or perhaps simple the things that smelled foulest. It was hard to say for certain with the curtains closed.  
  
Trying to escape the crowd of peasants that had started appearing on the early morning streets, I turned into an alley, only to hear a familiar pair of footsteps behind me.  
  
“Really, Sarah? You’re running away, in that fucking outfit? Seriously, those shoes will break within the day if you actually use them for something.” Katherine said. I turned around, and saw her standing there with a goofy smile on her face. She was carrying a pack filled with clothes, and held a pair of leather travelling shoes out for me with her free hand.  
  
“I… Katherine…”  
  
“What? I swore a fucking oath to keep you safe, I didn’t swear an oath to inform your father of your location at all times, or to let you get raped by some German grandpa.”  
  
I laughed, and felt a real smile reach my face, one that wasn’t forced, not part of the role I had to play, for the first time since Reginald had died.


End file.
